Starlight
by socasuallycruel
Summary: Aurora borealis: the northern lights. "She cleared my vision, made me realize that there was more to my life than my mom's death. She was beauty and light in the dead of night." AU starting with Boom! and jumping forward (and probably backward).
1. Chapter 1

Gonna go ahead and add a disclaimer in here, just in case it wasn't obvious that I don't own Castle.

* * *

"Beckett?" he cries, crashing through the front door. He leaves splinters in his wake as he picks his way through the wreckage of the hallway. "Beckett, are you in here? Kate!" The relief is immediate when he hears her raspy coughs coming from the back of the floor.

"Kate, you're alive!" he sighs. "Oh, and you're naked!" He spins around, despite the urge to gawk, as she throws herself back into the tub.

"Castle, turn around!" she orders.

"I already have," he throws back. What had that scar been from? Appendectomy? Kidney transplant? And was that a _piercing_? He shakes his head – now is not the time. "You know, your apartment _is _on fire. Now might not be the best time for modesty."

"Hand me a towel," she coughs, holding her hand out of the tub.

"Er…. The towels are on fire."

"What about the robe?" she worries.

"Do you have anything to wear that's not flammable?" he demands, turning to look at her.

"Castle!" she shrieks, curling in on herself. "Give me your jacket."

He rolls his eyes, pulling it off quickly and holding it blindly in front of him. When he's sure her arms are through the sleeves he opens his eyes and lets go, stepping back to help her out of the tub.

She clutches the jacket in front of her, crying out as she almost crashes to the ground at the slightest pressure on her ankle. "Whoa there," Castle grabs her before she falls and wraps his arm around her waist, helping her limp out of the room. "All right?"

"Yeah," she breathes. "I dove into the tub just as it blew – must've twisted my ankle in the process. Just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

They make it halfway to the door before she stops them. "Just a second," she requests, moving to enter what he assumes is her guest room.

"Not really the right time for this, Beckett. Y'know, what with the explosion and the smoke and the fire and all…"

"I know. Just a second," she repeats, putting her hand on his chest as he tries to follow her. "Wait here."

"But I-"

"Please, Castle. For just a second," she begs, actually _begs_, "_wait here_."

He lets her go, trying to peak through the opening before she slips through and shuts the door in his face. He catches nothing.

She's gone for far longer than a second but, despite his intense curiosity, he waits her out, keeping an eye on the flames and smoke to ensure that they do not grow close or thick enough to incapacitate them.

When she cracks the door open again he moves aside, holding out his arm for her to fall into. "Thank you," she says gratefully.

"Of course." When he rewraps his hand around her waist he can feel something in one of the pockets. He's dying to ask what was so important but instead he comes out with, "Besides your ankle, are you in any pain?"

"Not as much as you," she smirks, eying him sideways. "It must be killing you, Castle, having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door."

"Want me to start from the beginning?" he asks excitedly, mysterious side trip momentarily forgotten.

xxx

They're back in the still steamy, charred remnants of her living room as soon as the all clear is given. "Has anyone seen my father's watch?" she calls out, shifting through a pile of ash.

"I think I have the blast seed here," Agent Shaw mutters, lifting the object in question with a pair of forceps.

Esposito emerges from the end of the hallway as Agent Shaw looks around for more of the bomb. "Bedroom seems all right, Boss. Mostly smoke damage."

"Great," she sighs. "Anyone know if insurance covers dry-cleaning?" She stands up, stretching her arms above her as she takes in the destruction of her couch and, more importantly, the bookcase beside it. All of Castle's books were probably toast. All of her _mother's_ books were probably toast.

_Why me? _she sighs internally, running a hand over her face. _Why does it always happen to me? _She allows herself a few seconds to mope before returning to her unfortunate reality. "Hey," she yells, her heart suddenly falling into her stomach. "What are you doing?"

She jogs over to the door that she had disappeared into yesterday and shoves the agent about to open the door out of the way. "Not in there," she orders.

"We have to," he apologizes, moving towards the door again.

"You don't have to do anything," she tells him. "Agent Shaw," she requests, standing her ground.

"What is it now, Detective Beckett?"

"I will let you into this room, and you only." Shaw rolls her eyes, rising from her crouch and brushing off her knees. "What's the matter, Beckett, got a closet full of your hidden past?"

Beckett glares as she opens the door, letting Shaw past and following her through. She almost crashes into the agent as Shaw freezes just inside the room. "Oh," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."

She lets Agent Shaw do her prodding and poking, fighting the urge to curl up and die. Shaw works as fast as she can, disturbing as little as possible and, in the end, taking nothing.

"Is that it?" Beckett asks as Shaw stops in front of her.

"I believe so," she nods.

"I hope that we can keep this between the two of us?" she whispers, brow furrowed and eyes cast on the floor.

"Certainly," she agrees. "As far as I'm concerned, this room has nothing to do with the crime scene. There is no evidence here and no reason for us to remove anything from the premises."

Beckett throws her arms around Jordan, not caring how weak it may make her seem. "Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you _sure _this is the right place?" Castle asks for the thousandth time, "Because you know you can stay with me for as long as you want. You are one hundred percent welcome to our guest room until you find the perfect apartment."

"Castle," she snaps, putting her hand over his mouth. "For the eighth time, _I'm sure_. I appreciate everything you and your family have done for me, and I _know_ that if I needed to I could stay there, but I really like this apartment. It_ is_ the perfect one." As perfect as it can ever get, anyway. Besides, she can't let herself get any more used to living with Castle. If she does, she'll never leave. "I'm going to be very happy here," she whispers, standing in what is about to become her new living room.

"All right," he sighs, clapping his hands together. "Let's go sign some paperwork."

"Castle, I'm a big girl," she rolls her eyes, hiding a smile. "I think I can handle signing my lease; you don't have to come."

"Course I do," he tells her, ushering her out. "Gotta make sure you don't get ripped off, don't I?"

"I carry a gun, do you really think he's going to try and pull something on me?"

"You're a woman so yes, I do." And there goes the smile.

"That is _so_-"

"Honorable? Gallant? Chivalrous?" he offers excitedly.

"Unbelievably Sexist. Chauvinistic," she lists instead.

He gapes at her. "But I-"

"Thank you," she interrupts with a laugh, preventing him from blabbering on. "It's… sweet. Let's go," she hooks her arm through his, allowing him to accompany her to the landlord's office.

Castle has to stop himself from bouncing down the hall. Kate Beckett_, Beckett_, is hanging, okay, holding, onto his arm, walking as close to his side as she's ever been. This never happens; he needs to savor it. He knows that once she's settled into her new place all of what he's been interpreting as flirtation will cease to exist.

Kate knocks on the landlord's door, greeting him with a smile. The two exchange general pleasantries while Castle would have chatted the man up for hours if she'd let him. Despite his friendliness with the man, Castle remains surprisingly quiet as she goes over the rent agreement, signing all of the paperwork the landlord passes her way and writing him a check for her first and last months rent. Once he's looked everything over he hands her the mail key and the second key to the unit, shaking her hand and thanking her for choosing his building.

The duo makes their way out of the office and into the lobby of the building. "I'm impressed Castle," she turns to him. "I think that's the first time you've ever gone more than a minute without talking. You didn't have anything to say? You sure he didn't just take me for all that I'm worth?" she teases sarcastically.

_Trust me, Kate. You are worth _so _much more than that. _"Just wondering what I'm going to do without you, but I think you're good," he assures her instead, taking in the lobby. "Nice place," he comments, eying the doorman and the man behind the front desk, a bell sat next to a vase of wildflowers, just like a hotel. "Good choice."

She's shocked by his first statement but chooses to ignore it. "Glad you approve," she mutters, heading towards the elevator.

"Wait a sec, where're you going?" he asks, scrambling after her. There's no reason to go back up, is there? She's got nothing to go home to yet.

"To call the movers." She levels him with her best _obviously _look.

"Don't give me that look," he says nervously, taking a step back. "What do you need movers for?"

"Oh, I don't know," she pretends to think about it, bringing a hand to her mouth as she taps her foot. "Maybe to _move _everything from the storage unit into my home?"

"I'll do it," he levels her back with her own look. He's appalled that she didn't see that as a viable option in the first place and, besides, she's not getting rid of him that easily.

"Please, Castle. You've done enough for me already. Far more than you needed to." She really can't ask him for anymore; she's already forever in his debt.

"Ah, c'mon Beckett. You really want to go pay a bunch of sweaty men to handle your things when I'm right here, almost freshly showered, willing to do it for free?"

"Even if you were ripped you wouldn't be able to haul my furniture up here by yourself. I _have_to hire a bunch of sweaty men to do it."

"I'll pretend you didn't just imply that I'm not already ripped," he says petulantly. "But I can still help. You wouldn't let me help at all when you packed up what you could at you last apartment. You wouldn't even let me _be _there. Let me help this time," he begs.

"That's because it wasn't necessary," she reminds him, "and neither is this."

"C'mon Beckett," he whines. "If I help it'll go faster and the sweaty men will go away faster and you won't have to pay them as much cause it won't take as long and I can help you put all your stuff away and-"

"Okay!" she interrupts, tugging on her hair in frustration. "You can help! But I swear to God Castle, if you open any of my boxes or poke around in any of my containers I will kill you."

"Deal," he promises, eyes wide and hands held up in surrender.

xxx

"All right, Castle. All of the boxes and tubs are labeled. Just set them down in the room they belong in and leave it at that. I meant what I said before: Don't. Open. Anything."

"What's the matter, Beckett?" he grins, raising an eyebrow. "Scared I'll discover your kinky past?"

"Something like that," she growls, narrowing her eyes.

His mouth drops. "Oh, come on. Now I _have _to open the boxes."

"Don't you dare," she grits her teeth, grabbing his wrist as he tries to walk away with the box in hand. "Castle, I mean it. Do not open anything. _Please_." No more threats. Just a simple request.

"Okay," he acquiesces. "I won't open anything."

"Thank you," she breathes, relaxing.

"You're welcome," he nods, heading into the building with box number one. He sets it in the master bathroom, heading back down to retrieve another one. This one goes to the master bathroom as well, and the next two to the spare room. They aren't marked fragile and they aren't heavy, so he drops them to the ground. The second one lands on its side, causing the lid to fall.

Castle crouches, tipping it right side up and covering it again, but not before he catches a glimpse of a purple blanket with frogs on it. He smiles, thinking of the blanket that Alexis used to have, that one green with pigs on it, as he stacks the boxes against a wall and goes to get another one.

This next one is marked office, which he leaves in the living room seeing as there is an alcove there and no specific room to turn into an office. He repeats the process, so on and so forth, leaving the big-ticket items to the big sweaty men.

It takes the lot of them just over two hours to get everything inside and set into the right spot. Kate releases the movers, tipping them as they go. She shuts the door behind them, collapsing against it. She never imagined doing this alone and while she'd prepared herself for it, she found that she wasn't handling it very well.

"I ordered Chinese," Castle's voice, laced with concern, startles her.

"That's very presumptuous," she sighs, grateful for all that he's done but wanting nothing more than to be alone.

"Yes well I'm starving and you just let the big sweaty men go before they put together your bed frame so, unless you want to sleep on the floor tonight, we need to do it and I need food before that happens."

She nods in agreement. "I'd much rather sleep in my bed, Castle. Thank you."

"It'll be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Sounds good." She turns around to face him, leaning back into the door.

"Do you have any idea where you want your bedroom furniture?" he questions. "I can push it into place now so that after we eat we can get right to the bed."

"Let's go figure it out."

xxx

"You don't even have any kitchen boxes for me not to go through…" he attempts to joke, looking at her sad, empty kitchen. "What are we supposed to eat with?"

"Should've thought about that before you ordered Chinese," she smirks, handing him the chopsticks that came with his meal. "My living room and kitchen were almost totally destroyed. "The only things I kept belonged to my mom."

"I know a guy if anything needs to be restored," he offers.

"Thanks, Castle," she smiles genuinely for the first time in a few hours. "I'll let you know. Here," she hands him his carton of fried rice and his dinner order. "Good luck."

"I'm gonna need it," he says seriously, removing the lid and attempting to grab anything at all with the chopsticks.

"Forget this," he gives up after a few minutes of not capturing anything. "Chinese is a finger food, right?" He picks up a piece of broccoli and tosses it into his mouth, almost dropping it to the floor in the process.

"I guess it is now," she shrugs, joining in on his childishness.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Castle just can't take it anymore. "First thing tomorrow we are getting you a TV and a radio," he groans, shaking his head. "This silence is unbearable."

"I didn't have either of those things at my last place – what makes you think I want them here?"

"Seriously? They're a necessity. It's too quiet without them!"

"I _like _the quiet."

"That's insane."

"It's really not," she snaps. "I used to have them, but then…. Things happened and they brought back memories that were… best left unremembered," she tells him. "I have an iPod and my laptop. That's more than enough."

"Fine," he grumbles, letting it go despite his obvious curiosity. He thinks he's finally learned when and when not to push. "But we're getting a couch and some stools for the island. Eating on the floor sucks."

"Obviously. What am I, a caveman?

He finishes chewing his last bite and opens his mouth.

"Don't answer that," she orders quickly.

"You're loss," he shrugs, getting up with an over exaggerated stretch. "Oh, and a trash can. Definitely need to get one of those." He leaves the empty containers on the island and meanders down to Beckett's bedroom, taking in the dismantled bed.

It doesn't look too hard. The wrought-iron head and footboards are leaning against the wall already, the bars that connect them on the floor before them. A Ziploc baggie with a collection of screws, washers and nuts completes the supplies.

Castle gets to work just as Beckett joins him, moving the footboard out of the way. He takes the first connector, slipping it into place on the headboard and sliding a screw through the first hole, slipping a washer on the backside and securing it with a nut.

"I don't know what you were so worried about," Castle remarks, moving onto the next one. "This is easy!"

"Whatever was I thinking?" She sits near him, starting on the other bar. Once the main frame is put together Castle puts the crossbars on, attaching them the same way.

Beckett helps him get the box spring and mattress on top and he launches himself onto it before she can sit down, making sure the bed is secure.

"Feels good," he sighs contentedly, rolling over and putting his hands underneath his head.

"I know," she smirks, pushing him off the edge and taking his place as he crashes onto the ground.

"Rude," he grumbles, standing up and dusting himself off. "Do you want help with the guest bed?" he offers.

"I've got it," she shakes her head quickly. "But thank you for the offer. And thank you for your help today."

"You are very welcome, my dear detective. Thank _you_ for _letting _me help."

She nods, almost shyly. _Kate Beckett, shy?_ he thinks. _Never thought I'd see the day._

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do before I head out?"

"I think that's it," she says. "But again, thanks."

"Of course."

"See you tomorrow?" he asks hopefully.

"Until then," she smiles softly, walking him to the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks fly by as things settle back into the usual routine; Castle and his family grow used to Beckett's absence as Beckett gets used to being on her own again, fighting herself over what color to paint the walls in the living room and which wall the couch should face as she struggles to finish decorating. This is not something that she wants to be doing on her own.

When Beckett arrives at the scene late one evening she sports a triumphant grin, her step springier than it has been since this whole ordeal began. "What could possibly have you in such a good mood?" Castle groans, draining the last of his coffee and trying to take hers when he thinks she's not paying attention.

"I finally finished moving in," she sings, refraining from doing a little dance right there on the concrete, recognizing the fact that that would be _completely _unprofessional and unlike herself. She really can't help herself, though, as the thought that she no longer has to suffer through finding the perfect setup by herself flits across her mind.

Her happy dance ends as abruptly as it had begun as she realizes that, despite the fact that she's done moving furniture and painting walls and picking out dishware, she'll have to wonder for the rest of her life whether it would have been appreciated or not.

"It's about time! I've been waiting to be able to throw us a housewarming party fore_ver_."

"Get your own," she snaps, smacking Castle's hand away as he makes another attempt to snatch her coffee.

"But I finished it," he pouts.

"Well that's just too bad," she responds. "And no housewarming party. And if there was, it would be for _me_."

"Dinner, then. Just the five of us."

"_No_."

"But Beckett," he whines. "We _have _to have a party."

"It's my house, and I don't _have _to do anything," she argues. "I don't need a housewarming party. I suppose it's sort of… sweet," she admits, "but it's not necessary. There's nothing more I need; I've already gotten everything."

"It's tradition," he continues to push. "Who doesn't have housewarming parties, huh?"

"Me."

xxx

"_What _are you doing here?" Kate asks, refusing to step aside and let him in.

"Well it was supposed to be a surprise housewarming party, but Lanie called me an idiot and the boys refused to come without an invitation, but I'd already bought you your gift so I had to come bring it plus I _had _to see what you ended up doing to the living room and kitchen since you didn't invite me," he rushes out, squeezing his eyes shut as if being unable to see her equates to her inability to reprimand him.

"Castle," she sighs, covering her eyes with her hands. "This is…"

"Okay, fine," he interrupts, giving in easily as he holds out the package in his hands, "don't show me. But this is still for you."

She takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, and steps aside to let him in on the exhale. She accepts the box as he walks past her, holding it into her side as she shuts the door and follows him.

She sets the box on the counter and joins him in front of her bookcase, full of her singed and smoke-damaged collection. "This is so sad," he whispers staring at the lot.

Or at least she'd thought he was talking about the lot, until he reached out and pulled one of his own works off of the shelf. "And you're an ass," she rolls her eyes, leaving him to pity his ruined novel.

She returns to the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, pulling his gift towards her. "It's an iHome." She shrieks at his voice in her ear, her hand racing to her heart as she turns to glare at him.

"The point of a gift is that you don't know what it is until you've opened it," she lectures him. "And I told you I don't want a radio."

"It's not a radio," he shakes his head, taking the box and opening it for her. "It's really just a glorified speaker for your iPod, but this one has a remote, and an alarm function, and batteries will keep it working even if the power goes out. I know you don't want a radio, so I figured with this you could still play music throughout the floor but you could control it one hundred percent."

She lets him see the smile on her face. "Thank you, Castle. That's actually, surprisingly, considerate of you."

"Plus it's just too quiet here," he mutters, pulling the device out of the box and unraveling the cord.

"And there it goes, right out the window. I'm sorry, Castle. I forgot that the things in my home were here for your amusement."

xxx

"I've been thinking," he starts off slowly, finally working up the courage to speak after nearly an hour of covertly, or so he thought, staring at her working on paperwork.

"Huh, that's a surprise," she teases, barely sparing him a glance as she moves on to the next sheet.

He waits patiently, staring at her intensely until she looks at him. "Fine, I'll bite."

"What are you doing for the summer?" he asks, leaning in closely, eagerly awaiting her response.

"Working," she says slowly, pointing at her desk. "What else would I be doing?"

"Well, I was hoping you might agree to join me in the Hamptons," he invites, raising his eyebrows eagerly and flashing her a flirtatious grin in hopes of persuading her to say yes.

She freezes, shell-shocked, as she struggles to come up with an appropriate response. "I…. we….. I don't….." she manages to spit out.

"Look," he says softly. "Nothing has to happen." She's not sure what to think of the small twinge of disappointment she feels. "As you know, I'm leaving on Saturday to spend the summer there. I just thought you might like a break; you could stay as long or as little as you like, I just wanted you to know that you were welcome."

"Castle…" she trails off, not wanting to crush the eagerness all over his face, but knowing that she can't just up and run off with him, no matter how much she'd like to. "I can't just skip out here," she excuses herself weakly, "and I don't have a suit…." she lies. And even if it were the truth, what was stopping her from going out and picking one up?

"The pool _is _private; you could always just skinny-dip," he's quick to jump in.

"I need more coffee," she groans. "I got it," she stops him as he reaches for her mug. "Thanks."

He gets up anyway as she walks away, poking around under the paperwork in search of a post-it. Where had that little pad of paper in the shape of a dead body gone? When he's sure it's not on the desktop he moves to the center drawer, sifting through its contents before moving onto the next one.

He keeps an eye out for her return, knowing he'll be dead meat if she catches him rifling through her stuff. She still hasn't reappeared from the break room when he reaches the last drawer. It's usually locked, so he's surprised when it slides open.

At first he sees no reason for it to be kept secure, but as he moves to look at the back for a stray pad, even a scrap, of paper he finds a picture frame half buried in a pile of junk. He doesn't hesitate to pull it out, unsure what to think of the vibrant little girl posing in a purple tutu, her tangled hair the only thing keeping a silver tiara from falling off her head.

She can't be much older than two, her baby teeth not yet fully in place, a smudge of what looks like chocolate on her right cheek and a wand with streamers clenched loosely in her chubby little hands.

"What are you doing?!" Her voice somehow manages to come out coldly malicious, yet shockingly horrified. Horrifyingly malicious? Maliciously shocked? _Not the time._

The frame falls from his grasp and he slams the drawer shut, knowing he's screwed as he scrambles to defend himself. "I was…. and it was….and then you…. Paper! I was looking for a pad of paper so I could leave you the address. For the house. The Hampton's house, so you could come up. I mean if you wanted to. That is to say, if you changed your mind…. For a weekend…. Or longer….."

She shakes her head, trying to look angry but falling severely short. She barely manages to hide how broken she is as she uses the last of her energy to tell him to go home.

"But I-" he tries to argue, the response he'd had prepared in the expected event of her anger focused on him dying in his throat.

"Go home, Castle," she reiterates. "Just go."

He tries to apologize, though he's not sure what for, exactly; she should be pissed that he'd gone through her desk, that's why he'd tried to keep an eye out for her, but instead she was on the verge of tears.

"Beckett," he tries again. "Kate, I-"

She shakes her head again, refusing to look at him as she hurries away.

She arrives home to a box in front of her door, one that could very well break her back she realizes as she tries to lift it. She would much rather bring it into the entry and leave it there for another day but since she can't even get it through the door she retrieves a pair of scissors, slicing through the tape.

Once she's pried the lid off she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Son of a bitch," she sighs, pulling out a brand new hardcover copy of _Flowers for Your Grave_.

_Kate, _the letter taped to the cover begins.

_I know this seems like an arrogant move, but don't worry. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a cocky son of a bitch but even you can admit that it's not to this extent. It's much easier for me to produce a copy of each of my own books than it is for the rest of your collection, especially those first editions you have tucked away. It'll take some time, but don't worry; I'll find them. _

_Enjoy,_

_Castle_

"Son of a bitch," she repeats, allowing the tiniest hint of a smile.

xxx

He wants to call her. Make sure she isn't going to do something stupid in her unusually emotional state. No, he wants to go to her. He needs to see her, make sure she's okay, explain himself. Make sure she affords him the same courtesy.

He wants to hear her voice, see for himself that she's going to be all right. He doesn't know how to begin to think about what he'd seen earlier, how to interpret her reaction to the situation.

He needs to know who the beautiful little girl in the picture is, what importance she holds. Why does Kate have her hidden away in the back of the deepest drawer? What else does she have hidden?

He knows she's angry, despite her crushed tone, but he needs to confront her, show her that he cares and that he won't be sent away so easily. That he'll stand by her no matter her story. He needs to be there.

Instead, he packs his bags and heads out a few days earlier than expected.

Three weeks into his so-called vacation and they still haven't heard from each other. He'd hoped that she would at least call, if not just show up one evening. He'd texted her the address but had received no response.

She'd been craving his voice since he didn't show up at the precinct the next day, though could she really blame him after her little display? He probably thought she was crazy. She wanted to go to him, take him up on his offer to join him for at least part of the summer, but was too afraid of the inevitable after what he'd seen.

His phone rings in the middle of the night a few days later and his heart leaps into his throat. The writer in him wants to dive right in but he decides to pretend that nothing has happened. _For now. _"Detective Beckett, to what do I owe this late yet oh so pleasurable phone call?"

A beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then, "I take it this is indeed Richard Castle?" a man asks tiredly.


	4. Chapter 4

Castle rockets into a sitting position, his heart suddenly in his stomach. "Yes, it is. Where's Kate? Did something happen?" he's already out of bed and searching blindly for his jeans in the dark.

"Calm down, Boy," the man with Kate's phone sighs. "Katie's just fine. At least she will be in a day or so."

"What do you mean? Who is this?" he demands, sitting back on the edge of the bed and running a hand through his hair, a sigh of relief at the tip of his tongue.

"Jim Beckett, Katie's father. What I mean is that she's going to have one helluva hangover in the morning but, once she gets over it, she'll be good as gold. Well… she'll be okay, anyway.

"The reason I'm calling is because Katie refuses to spend the night here with me, but I don't think she should be alone tonight. She won't let me go home with her and I can't force her to do anything, so I was hoping you'd be willing to take her home and keep an eye on her.

"I understand if you can't or don't want to, but I wasn't really sure who else to call. I don't think she'd appreciate it if I invited one of her coworkers to see her like this and I'm sure she'll listen to you."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Sir. Lanie probably would've been a better option; I think she'll be even less pleased for me to see her, but of course I'll take care of her. I'm in the Hamptons right now but I can be there in a couple of hours."

When Jim learns that Castle isn't even in town he tries to backtrack, say that he'll find another solution, but Castle won't hear it. He jots down the address and nearly forgets to lock the door as he flies out of the house.

Just over two hours later he finds himself idling outside of a brownstone in the Upper East Side. He knocks on the giant oak door, smiling nervously as the entry light flicks on and an older man unlocks the door.

"Jim?" Castle questions as the door swings open, his palms suddenly sweaty and his heart racing. He was meeting Kate's _father._

He nods. "And you are Mr. Castle," he smiles, stepping aside to let him in. "I would recognize you anywhere – my wife _loved _you."

"So I've heard," he smiles, wiping his hand discretely before holding it out. "I'm flattered. And please, call me Rick."

Jim leads him down the hallway, towards an arch at the end. Castle glances at the pictures adorning the walls on the way, a wedding photo, Jim and Johanna with a baby Beckett, her smile shiny with spittle, a school days frame with pictures of Kate from kindergarten to graduation, Johanna and Kate ice skating, Kate and Jim at her police academy graduation, Kate in her uniform, Jim reading to a little girl in the hospital, that same little girl with her tooth in her hand, her holey grin outshining her pale face.

When he reaches the end of the collage he follows Jim through the doorway, finding Kate sprawled across the arms of an old chair in front of the fireplace.

"Castle?" she slurs as soon as he steps into view. "You called Castle? What the hell, Dad?" The butterflies in her stomach break free of hibernation with a vengeance, a little bit stronger each time she sees him, but he can't see her like this. How could her father do this to her?

"Rick is going to take you home, Katie."

"The hell he is," she argues, pushing herself further into the armchair she sits in, crossing her arms in petulant defiance.

"Come on, Katie," Jim sighs, moving over to stand in front of her, holding out his hand to get her up.

She ignores him, shoving his hand away and glaring at Castle. "I don't need your help," she shakes her head violently, "go home."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kate," he says, standing his ground. She knows he's only talking about this particular moment, but she can't help the pang in her chest that accompanies the fleeting thought of a deeper meaning. "Let's go home," he coaxes, tilting his head towards the front door.

"I'm not going home with you," she repeats, standing her own ground. She's already so embarrassed that it doesn't really matter anymore, but she has to be strong. She won't let him see how broken she really is. She can't risk it; she won't let herself slip up.

xxx

"Kate, stop fighting," he growls, managing to hold her in a way that renders her arms immobile as they struggle through her living room.

"Then stop hovering!" she growls back, trying to wrench herself away. "I can go to bed all by myself. I'm drunk, not invalid!"

"Well forgive me for wanting to make sure that you don't drown in your own vomit before the night is through," he yells, trying to get through to her.

"Oh, please – you're just…. hoping for an eyeful," she slurs on a sudden yawn, swaying in her spot.

"Trust me, I'm not. When I get an eyeful, you'll be perfectly sober. Plus, I already saw enough to hold me over when your apartment blew. Strawberry charm? Nice choice."

"Ugh," she gasps indignantly, eyes flying open wide. "Who the hell do you think you are?" She twists out of his arms and topples herself onto the ground. "Dammit!" she cries, clenching her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. This day really couldn't get any worse.

"Okay, that was inappropriate."

"Damn right it was inappropriate," she snaps, trying and failing to get herself upright.

"C'mon, Kate," he says softly, holding out a hand.

"No. Go home, Castle." He rolls his eyes, stopping down and lifting her into his arms. "Let's be done with the defiance, huh? I know you don't want me here but I don't care. I know you're an adult and you know how to take care of yourself, as you've made that perfectly clear for quite some time, but that doesn't mean that you have to. God, Kate, I'm not some creep off the streets; I'm your partner. Your _friend_. You had a rough night; let me make sure you get to bed safely. You won't mean to drown in your own vomit, but are you aware of how much you drank tonight? I'm surprised you're still standing.

Silence meets him.

…"Kate?" Her head is curled under his chin, one hand clutching his jacket tightly, the other hanging in the air. He cranes his neck to see a little dribble already making its way down her jaw. "Good talk," he sighs, carrying her carefully to the bedroom. He sits on the bed, unwilling to let her go. She would never get this close to him when she was awake; never curl into him trustfully, holding onto him for dear life. He's going to milk the feeling for all it's worth.

When his arm goes numb he reluctantly relinquishes his hold on her, pushing aside the comforter and laying her down gently. He expects her to let go when her back hits the mattress but as he tries to withdraw from her she holds on tighter, wrapping her loose arm around his neck and snuggling up into his chest.

He sighs, grasping her hands gently and loosening her grip. He wishes he were able to climb in next to her, wrap the sheets around the both of them and pull her as close as she'd been a few minutes ago. He wishes he could fall asleep with his arm around her torso and her head against his chest, and wake up to the sun shining through the window and the two of them wrapped so tightly together they were almost one. She'd make coffee, and he'd make pancakes, _thank you so much for last night_, and they would head into the precinct together….

She groans in her sleep, twisting herself around in a way that can't be comfortable. He wishes he could free her of her restricting work clothing but he knows that, especially after this evening, it would be completely inappropriate. She probably wouldn't remember in the morning, assuming she'd done it herself, but he refrains, removing her boots and belt and placing her earrings and her mother's ring on the dresser.

The bathroom door is ajar and it reminds him to check the medicine cabinet, collecting a few aspirin to leave on the bedside table before he leaves her to sleep. He keeps the door open halfway so that he can hear if anything happens during the night and goes to make himself comfortable in the living room, pouring a glass of water and scrounging up a decent banana in the bowl of rotting fruit, setting the rest next to the sink to grind in the garbage disposal in the morning.

Too wired to sleep, he strolls back into the living room, taking everything in. He can really snoop now that she's not right next to him, scrutinizing his every move. He touches the knick-knacks on the mantel, thumbs through her miniscule collection of DVDs, strokes the leaf on a potted plant, and comes to an end at the bookshelf.

His chest swells with pride when he sees the collection of brand new books he'd sent her, but when he notices that she's still got four of his books from the fire on the shelf he leans in to investigate. The first is the copy of _Storm Fall_ he'd given her after their first case. He bypasses that one and her advanced copy of Heat Wave and pulls out the third, a battered copy of _A Rose for Everafter_. He opens it to the dedication page and freezes. He thought not remembering signing something for Kate would be bad, but this? This is so much worse.

_For Johanna,_

_Thank you for taking a break from all that you do to come down and see me. I'm honored to have had the chance to meet you, no matter how brief that meeting may have been._

_Enjoy,  
Richard Castle_

He'd spent time with her, had a conversation, even. He knew what she did for a living, for God's sake. He struggles to remember even a little of their brief encounter but comes up empty. How could he forget something, _someone_, so important?

He shuts the book quickly, carefully sliding it back into position, and pulls out the last one, _Flowers for Your Grave_. He opens this one with reverence, unsure as to who it will be dedicated to but knowing that he won't be able to remember it happening.

_Kate, _

_I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for; I hate to see anybody look so sad, especially a pretty girl such as yourself._

_Too cliché? Inappropriate? Oh well, I hope it put a smile on your face, if only for a moment. You really are stunning._

_Stay strong,_

_Richard Castle _

Never before has he wished to go back and change something about his past as much as he does now. How could he ever forget either of these personalizations? He should have remembered Kate as soon as he'd met her.

_How many books had you signed before that_? he asks himself. _How many after_? He doesn't remember any of the books he'd signed, or their readers, in particular, save for the teenage girl with chronic cystic fibrosis who had asked him to sign every single one in her collection.

It's not fair to beat himself up over something he could have never imagined becoming so significant, but he can't help himself. He lays on the couch for hours, trying to imagine how the encounters went down before he finally falls asleep.

He jolts into awareness some time late, unsure as to what woke him up. He listens for Kate but doesn't hear anything, so he takes his time pulling his body off of the couch and waking up. He rubs the last of the sleep from his eyes, downing the rest of his water before he goes to check on Kate.

She's not in bed, and when he discovers the bathroom empty as well he begins to panic. He runs through the apartment, checking the hall bathroom and even the closet before rushing to check the front door. The chain was still in place so there was only one spot left she could be.

Padding back down the hall softly, listening for anything, he stops out side the spare room. He knows she doesn't want him in there and as curious as he is he really wants to respect that, but he has to make sure she's okay. According to Jim, according to Kate she'd had far more than someone her size should be able to tolerate and he had to make sure she was still breathing.

He cracks the door open slowly, having no clue what awaits him behind it. "Oh, Kate," he whispers, his voice escaping him when he sets foot in the room beyond.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, Kate," he repeats brokenly, approaching the fragile looking figure, curled into herself and made to be as small as possible, on the butterfly bedspread. She's got one hand gripping the pillow underneath her head and a ratty looking otter clutched to her heart, holding on for dear life.

Her face is still red and splotchy with the remnants of tears and her breathing hasn't quite evened out, a hitch in her chest making her cough every now and then. Castle comes to a stop next to her, looking at the old fashioned alarm clock with a Tinkerbelle face sitting next to a lamp on the nightstand, the Disney lithographs that are framed on the wall over the long side of the bed, and the almost new copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ sitting at Kate's feet, the edges a blackened with smoke and ash.

His vision returns to Kate, painfully small on the bed before him, and he pushes aside the flimsy canopy, squatting down as he reaches out to run his hand down her side. Other than the shiver that runs through her spine she doesn't react, so he moves to sit next to her on the bed. His unexpected weight causes her body to shift, a whimper escaping her throat at the disturbance. He doesn't wait to see whether she'll remain asleep or not, scooping her up into his arms and crushing her to him.

"No," she startles as he turns her into his chest. "No, Castle, let me go." She struggles weakly as he stands, pushing at him pathetically in a minimal attempt to roll out of his arms and back onto the bed. "Leave me alone, Castle," she cries, twisting enough to hit at his shoulders. "Just let me be!" Her words tell him to back off but the forced attempts to get away tell him to hold tighter, conflicting emotions waging war against one another as she struggles to stay sane.

"Dammit Castle! Just go home!" she yells, her voice watery and already full of surrender as he carries her out to the couch, releasing her long enough to wrap the blanket on the back around them. He has yet to speak as he starts rubbing her back – nothing he says will ever make a difference – and the damn breaks. Her arms are around his neck in an instant, her face buried in his chest; he can already feel the snot and the tears soaking through his shirt.

He's never seen her give up so easily, never really seen her give up at all, actually, and it absolutely obliterates his heart. "Oh, Kate," he whispers again, keeping one hand on her lower back and moving the other up to rest on her opposite shoulder as he buries his face in her hair. He rocks her as she cries, fighting off his own tears in a battle that's already been lost.

He's never been thirstier for knowledge, never craved to break into her shell more than now, but he's seeing the devastating effects right before his eyes and he will never be the one to cause her this agony.

Even above his curiosity, he just wants to take the pain away, to comfort and soothe her back to sleep, somewhere where she can forget. Almost unconsciously, he hums a nameless tune that used to help Alexis back to bed after a nightmare. Fortunately for his little girl, when she woke again the dream would be forgotten. Kate would never forget this.

She doesn't say anything more and so neither does he, continuing with the repetitive motions until she's fallen asleep, slumped against his chest. When he's sure she's out of it he maneuvers himself so that he can lie down without disturbing her, letting her body naturally sprawl out across his chest. He keeps his arms wrapped around her so that she doesn't roll over and tries to map out the story.

His mind races, thoughts flying through at a million miles a minute, as he shifts to a slightly more comfortable position. _Kate has… had? a daughter? All this time with her and he hadn't known… hadn't had the slightest inclination…. what happened? Where is she? With her father? No…_

_Even if she lived with her father he would have still been bound to have heard of her, if not met her. But who's her father? Sorenson, or someone before?_

_Is she the same vibrant little ballerina in Kate's desk drawer? The same little girl in the hospital in the picture with Jim? What had landed her there? Had she died in the hospital? Then why had Kate gone through the trouble of setting up a room for her in the new apartment? Sentimentality?_

_Why weren't there any pictures of her? Why wasn't her presence all around the house? Why had Kate kept her a secret? Prevented him from entering the bedroom with such ferocity? _

_How old is she – would she be? What is –was- her favorite color? Movie? Book? Drink? Dessert? Park? What was her favorite thing to do with her Mom? What was Kate's to do with her?_

He sighs, yearning to know her story. He'd always known Kate to be extraordinary, thought he knew everything behind it. How wrong he had been. _She's so strong. How does she do it, power through every day to come home to an empty apartment? How can she bring herself to stand upright for even a minute? _So strong….

His thoughts follow along the same pathway until he, too, succumbs to slumber, resting uneasily despite the deliciously warm weight of her body pressed against his.

xxx

The early-morning sun shines through the cracks in the blinds, piercing his eyelids and pulling him from his restless stupor with ease. They've shifted in their brief unconsciousness, her back pressed against the back of the couch and their fronts pressed together.

He blinks against the blinding light, his eyes adjusting quickly to take in the welcome sight of her body wrapped up with his. He takes the opportunity to look at her, really look, without her snarky remarks about his creepy staring. Even in her sleep he can see the tension, the lines in her forehead, but she's still remarkably more peaceful than when she's awake. She's still heartbreakingly beautiful.

He runs his hand up and down her side, his fingers trailing along her curves as he watches the slight twitch of her nose that alerts him to the fact that she's in the process of waking up.

He takes a deep breath, knowing that he doesn't have much longer, knowing that he may never have this opportunity again, and leans forward, pressing his lips against the tension in her forehead, lingering as long as he dares as he relishes the connection.

When her breathing starts to pick up he withdraws, extracting himself from the tangle of the blanket they'd shared and hurrying to get her aspirin before she wakes up. When he gets back to the living room she's just sitting up, one hand against her head and the other clutching a knee to her chest, the awkward bend of her back doing nothing to help her unsteady breathing.

She jumps when she hears him step onto the hard wood, freezing when their eyes lock. He holds out the aspirin as a peace offering, a way to say he won't say anything, and she crumbles, eyes filling with fresh tears and her face crumpling in on itself. He should have expected this, really. He plants himself back on the couch and she's on him, arms coming around him in a chokehold and gasping sobs muffled in the crook of his neck.

The man is a novelist but, just like last night, he has no idea what to say. Words in general have failed him, and nothing he could even hope of mustering up could ever have the desired effect. He drops the pills next to him and hugs her, squeezing her tightly and shushing in her ear. "I know, Kate, I know," he soothes, realizing how completely, utterly asinine that sounds. He doesn't know. He'll never know.

"No," she chokes, shaking her head, incoherent blubbers accompanying the motion. "No."

"I know," he concedes. "I don't know." He drops his head, pressing a kiss against her hair before resting his chin on top of her. They start rocking, repeating the motion of last night, until she suddenly shoves him away, throwing herself onto the floor and putting her head between her knees, rocking herself in attempt to just calm down.

Nausea ripples through her and she gasps, choking on bile as she hurls herself up and towards the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty what little she ate and what must be everything she drank the day before from her system. Her body shudders when his hand meets her back, rubbing it as he pulls her hair away from her face as round two begins.

When she's done she collapses against the porcelain, rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth and cursing herself for leaving the door open in invitation to him. _Does it even matter anymore? _she berates herself. _He's already seen me so low, what's a little puke?_

The headache borders on migraine status as Castle lifts her away from the toilet and flushes. He helps her stand up, supports her as she rinses with mouthwash, and he produces the aspirin when she's done.

She looks at the pills in disdain, feeling unworthy of the relief they offer but she's selfish and weak and so she tosses them back, ignoring the glass of water he holds out for her, consequentially gagging as they slide down her raw throat.

As soon as they're down she steps forward, shoving her face into Castle's chest and clutching the material at his sides. His arms wrap around her again, the movement becoming far too familiar.

"Thank you," she whimpers, moving her hands to meet at his lower back, squeezing as she turns her cheek into his shirt, staring at the towel rack to her right.

"For what?" He's genuinely perplexed, waiting for reality to come back and bite him in the ass, to be thrown out just like the first time for his general insubordinance.

"For being here, and holding me. For pushing me last night and for not this morning. For saving me from myself," she whispers, looking up at him. "Just…. Being you. I appreciate you far more than you think." She loathes herself for admitting it to him, hates how he'll someday hold this against her, but after everything he's sat through in the last ten hours he deserves the truth, no matter how detrimental it is to her pride.

Her pride isn't important, anyway. It's selfish, but so is she.

"Always," he grins, quirking his eyebrow in that charmingly boyish way that still sends butterflies straight through her system even now, upping her self-hatred even more. How can she let him affect her like this at all, let alone a day like today?

"I don't deserve this," she whispers nervously. "This isn't right."

"Comfort? Support? Of course you do," he scoffs, holding her tighter when she tries to pull away again.

"I don't," she disagrees, the waterworks kicking back into gear. "I don't." She blinks away the tears, sniffling back to clear her airway. "I don't," she reiterates, forcing herself to be strong.

"You'll see," he says softly. "No matter what, you'll always deserve to have somebody at your side. But how does a cup of coffee sound in the mean time?" he asks, taking a step back.

"Wonderful," she admits with a sigh, reluctantly letting him lead her to her kitchen. She sits at a stool and lays her aching head down on the cold marble, letting him flit around to make her a cup.

He clicks and he bangs as he goes through the cabinets, finding everything he needs as he gets to work.

Minutes later he places a steaming mug in front of her, leaning on the opposite counter. She ignores his blatant staring as she grasps the sides of the mugs, relishing the warmth against her palms as she considers her options.

She could ignore everything, send Castle home and pretend the evening had never happened. She knew he wouldn't bring it up again, at least not for a while…. But she would know, and so would he. Everytime they spoke, everytime their eyes met she would remember, and her guilt would just continually increase until she cracked anyway.

So she has to tell him. Keeping everything bottled up inside in the first place was never the right idea, and this didn't mean she had to tell anybody else; nobody at work had to know. This was Castle, her friend, her partner. He'd been there for her through Dick Coonan, through her apartment blowing up…. He'd stood by her side through two of the hardest things she'd ever done; shooting the man that had murdered her mother (nevermind that it was Castle's fault that he had to be shot in the first place) and leaving all of her most important belongings in her burning building….

Castle wasn't here to judge her. Castle wasn't here to give her those pitying looks, to question her actions…. She was loathe to admit her acknowledgement of it, but Castle was here for her. For two years now this is where he'd been and, despite her best efforts, it seems as though this is where he's going to stay.

She hopes this is where he's going to stay, and so she opens her mouth, closing it again with the realization that she has no idea where to begin. She almost backs out but when she meets his concerned gaze she knows that there's no going back. She can do this.

"I didn't ask," he offers, providing her with an easy out.

"No," she actually cracks a smile, "but you were not asking very loudly." She takes a moment to regather her thoughts and her strength. _It's now or never. _Her heart pounds as she sits up straight, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. "Her name is Aurora."

"Was," she corrects after a moment, shaking her head. "_Was_. Her name was Aurora."


	6. Chapter 6

Castle's pushing off the counter in an instant, ready to take her up into his arms again and never let go, the confirmation of what his mind had conjured up almost too much to take. And if he feels like this, he can't even imagine what's going on inside of Kate.

"No," she stops him, throwing her hand out in front of her. "No, you can't do that. I'll never get it out if you come near me."

"What more is there to get out?" He's shocked; isn't her first admission enough?

"So much more," she laughs humorlessly. "Too much more. Uhm…" she puts her head in her hands, shaking it as though that would really clear her thoughts. "Okay." She pushes away from the counter, hopping down from her stool and disappearing down the hall. He doesn't have the time to follow her; it takes only seconds for her to reappear with a couple of frames in hand. "I know you saw the picture in my desk, and the ones at my dad's house."

She offers him the first picture, a larger copy of the same one from her desk. "This was taken six weeks before the first seizure," she mutters quietly, setting the other frame down on the counter, "on her second birthday. My dad had gotten her everything she was wearing and she was absolutely in love, wouldn't stop for a second to let us fix the tiara because she didn't want to take it off." She pauses, relishing in the last few moments before the terror started, allowing the first genuine smile in days to creep across her face.

_"Rory, come here!" she laughs, reaching for the toddler._

_"No, Mommy!" the girl giggles, a cheeky grin accompanying the laughter as she turns around, taking stock in her surroundings as she darts out of her mother's reach. She barrels down the hallway, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the wall. She falls to the floor, catching herself with the hand holding her prized cupcake. "Aw," she whines, standing up with a pout. _

_She turns to see her mother standing at the end of the hallway and huffs, using sticky fingers to push her hair out of her face, leaving a smear of frosting across her cheek. "The floor ate my cake," she groans, slapping her clean hand against the side of her head, dragging it down her face and throwing it out in the general direction of the mess._

_"I'm sorry, baby," Kate soothes, fighting the smile begging to be shown._

_"Aren't you gonna punch it?" Rory demands, crossing her arms over her chest. "You punched me when I ate your cake!"_

_"Aurora!" Kate gasps, choking on a laugh. "I most certainly did not!"_

_"Did too!" she argues. "You didn't lemme have no more!"_

_"I _punished_ you," she emphasizes. "I did not punch you. And that's because you'd already had desert! One slice of cake is enough for you, young lady."_

_"But the floor ate mine," she insists, pointing behind her._

_"Well I guess it's a good thing it's your birthday, huh?" Kate smiles, holding her hand out. _

_"Yeah! It is my birday!" Rory agrees, running to take her mother's hand. "I can have more cake?" she asks, just to be sure._

_"You can have more cake," Kate assures her, taking another cupcake off of the counter and presenting it to her with a flourish. "Let's try and keep this one away from the floor, yeah?"_

_"Yeah," Rory agrees, half of it already down her throat._

"She, uh…" she clears her throat. "She was watching _Beauty and the Beast_ when it happened. We were. I got up to put some more juice in her cup and I came back into the room just as she fell. She just dropped to the floor, like a… like she'd been _shot_. She just went down and then she was seizing and I just…. I lost it."

_"Rory," Kate yells, dropping the cup to the floor. The lid snaps off, apple juice spreading across the floor and soaking into the edge of the living room rug as she dives to her daughter's side. She grasps the girl's cheeks, straddling her tiny body to keep her from thrashing into the coffee table or slamming her head into the floor. _

_"Rory, baby," Kate whispers, tears streaming down her face as Rory's eyes roll around in their sockets. "Please, God, please," Kate begs, laying her head against her daughter's as she finally stops convulsing. "Please, baby, please." When her body seems calm, Kate jumps up, racing for her phone._

_It feels like it's been hours when the paramedics finally arrive and by the time they arrive at the ER Rory's had two more seizures._

"Her ICP was through the roof," Kate fights to get out. "Just like that, she was fine one minute and dying the next. So they admitted her and relieved the pressure and poked her and prodded her and scanned her until there weren't any more tests to do.

"She had a tumor in her cerebellum, so tiny they weren't even sure that that was what it was. They kept her for almost a week, trying to keep her pressure under control, and when they retested her it had doubled in size."

_"Miss Beckett, I'm afraid that your daughter does in fact have a tumor."_

_She bites her lip, blinking rapidly as she nods her head. "What can we do?" she gets right to the point._

_"Our first step will be to biopsy the tissue, to determine whether it is malignant or not."_

_"And then?"_

_"Either way it will be tricky. The tumor's location and Aurora's age make surgery almost entirely out of the question. The problem with this, even if it is benign, is that it is growing at an alarming rate; we cannot allow it to proceed. If it is malignant, we have even more of a problem."_

_"So you can't operate but you can go in to biopsy? Why bother?"_

_"We don't really have any other options, Miss Beckett. This procedure has its risks, yes, but surgery is far more invasive. This is the first step; unfortunately, there isn't a divergent path in this situation." _

_She covers her mouth with her hand, crying into it quietly. "Will she feel it? The biopsy? You're going to have to jab her with a giant needle, right? Through her eye, or her skull? She's not going to feel it, is she?"_

_"Not a thing. We'll put her under a general anesthetic for the procedure; she'll be completely out of it."_

_Kate holds her hands out in surrender. "Okay," she agrees. "Do it."_

"It was malignant…. Aggressive, of course," she says, picking up her coffee. "We had to attack it with everything it was throwing at us. They don't recommend radiation therapy for children under the age of three; too many risks. But, chemo isn't always the best option for brain tumors and we were racing against the clock."

_"Mommywannagohome," Rory slurs, fighting to keep her eyes open._

_"I know you do, baby. I want to take you home, too."_

_"Do…. It…."_

_"I wish I could, baby. I'd do anything to get you out of here, but you can't get better at home."_

"Notgetting….. betterhere."

_"Oh Rory," Kate sighs, running her fingers over her cheek. "We're trying."_

"The tumor didn't get any worse, but it didn't get much better, either. We were basically in a gridlock with cancer. They advised against it, but after my approval her oncologist upped the radiation dosage and a few months later they confirmed that the tumor was gone.

"She was officially released from treatment and a six month appointment was scheduled."

"She didn't make it that far," Castle guesses, his throat constricted and his arms aching to reach out and touch her.

"She had another seizure four months later."

_"Mommy?" Rory calls, turning around and trying to follow her mother to the bathroom. "Mommy…"_

_"I'll be right back, Aurora," Kate scolds. "Let me pee in peace."_

_"But Mommy," she chokes it out again, stumbling to the floor as her body begins to convulse._

_"Oh Jesus, not again. Please, not again." Kate repeats the process, flipping Rory onto her back and straddling her daughter in an attempt to hold her steady. _

_"Just as she was starting to make it through the day without stumbling, or throwing up... Just as she was starting to feel like herself again… So we went through the same barrage of tests as before and the tumor was back, same damn spot."_

_"It's back?" Rory whines, not exactly sure what it was that had made her sick the first time but well aware of the fact that she did not want to go through it again._

_"I'm so sorry, baby," Kate whispers, her cheek pressed against the top of Rory's head. "We're gonna fix it," she promises, kissing her forehead._

_"I don't wanna," Rory cries. "I don't wanna be stuck in the hospidal again and I don't wanna throw up everyday and I don't wanna be sick!"_

_"I know you don't Rory. I don't like this anymore than you do – I hate this. It kills me to see this happening to you – I wish it was me," she tells her, running her hand through Rory's hair. _

_"I don't," Rory admits, looking up at her. "It stinks ta be sick."_

_"Oh, my sweet girl," Kate chokes, pulling her into a hug. "I love you so much."_

"So we went back to the daily radiation treatments, but it was like the tumor had grown back with antibodies. The oncologist refused to make the dosage any higher, so we were kind of at a loss.

"We kept with the original dose in an attempt to keep it at bay while we tried to come up with a new solution. We got placed on the waiting lists of a couple of clinical trials, but the majority of them wouldn't take her because of her age.

"We decided to try chemo while we waited, but it was a little more complicated; when it goes in through the bloodstream it doesn't always reach the brain. They had to surgically insert a catheter so that it could be put directly into her cerebrospinal fluid. Her hair fell out, and she threw up some more, but the tumor was responding.

"At first, anyway. New scans were taken every few weeks and the size kept fluctuating. The last time I saw that kind of yoyo I was still watching Oprah," she tries to joke, falling severly flat. "I eventually begged him to operate, horribly terrifying risks be damned. I'd rather she die in surgery than continue to live in agony, but he said he wouldn't do it… I'd have to find another doctor.

"Don't get me wrong, he was absolutely wonderful. That man did everything for Rory, but he just didn't feel comfortable proceeding with the surgery. So I tried to find someone who would, and I found a woman in San Antonio who was willing to give it a go. I _so _wanted to give it the go, but I just couldn't do that to Rory. She had her good days, really good days, but most of the time she was just so out of it…." she trails off, staring at the clock in the kitchen. "She wouldn't have taken well to waking up to a new place with new people."

"So what happened?" he urges her, enthralled in the tragedy.

"I don't know," she wails, throwing her arms up in the air. "That's what makes this so hard; not knowing is the worst part!"

"I don't think I understand," he says nervously.

"I was gone for ten minutes…. Not even. I was right down the hall, signing her discharge papers." If his confusion wasn't obvious before, it sure as hell is now.

"She'd been doing… okay. Good days and bad days, but okay. But she'd spiraled down so much in recent days that they honestly didn't think she would make it through the new year, said nothing short of a miracle would save her. I was counting on that miracle…. She'd beaten it once, and despite the touch and go she was still powering through like a trooper…

"I guess this was somehow different, though. It usually took a few days for her downwards progressions, and this time it literally happened over night. One day she was doing, dare I say, well, and the next she just… wasn't.

"All she wanted for Christmas was to go home. She just wanted her own bed, and her own room. How could I deny her that? So they were going to let me take her home, to die where she was comfortable.

"I turned in the papers but when I got back to her room she was just… gone. The wheelchair had been brought for us to leave the hospital but she was nowhere to be found.

"Somebody took a dying child, _my baby_, from Mount Sinai and nobody saw a God Damn thing." She slams the mug down onto the counter and it shatters, slicing into the skin between her thumb and index finger. "Damn it," she chokes, throwing the handle still in her grasp against the wall and slamming her hand down into the shards. She grunts in pain as the coffee invades the wounds, pulling a tiny piece of ceramic out of one of the gashes as Castle rushes to her side.

She ignores him as he tugs her to the sink, sticking her hand under the faucet to rinse the blood away and get a better look at the depth of the wounds. "Somebody kidnapped my dying daughter right out of the hospital," she repeats, her voice full of disbelief. "Walked right out of the building and nobody saw _anything._ Nothing captured on footage, no eyewitnesses, _nothing_. She just disappeared," she whispers.

"She'd been sleeping while I was signing the papers…. Did she wake up? Was she conscious enough to realize what was happening? How long did she live? Was she all alone? Was she _scared_?"

"Beckett," Castle poses, interrupting her painful queries, "she might not be dead."

"What kind of kidnapper would get their victim treatment, Castle?" she scoffs. "They took her from the hospital. Why would they bring her to another one?"

She takes her hand from his, cradling it to her chest as she looks him in the eye. "I got a call two days later. If we wanted it, there was an opening in one of our clinical trials."

* * *

_Is it over yet?  
Can I open my eyes?  
Is this as hard as it gets?  
Is this what it feels like to really cry?_

_Cry - Kelly Clarkson_


	7. Chapter 7

"She would've been six yesterday," she says quietly, her eyes closed at the gentle touch of his hands on hers, dabbing Neosporin onto her cuts. "I wanted to forget, just for a little while, but I drank all day and _still _couldn't get away from the pain. I don't remember why I ended up at my dad's… I think I wanted to make sure he wasn't drinking, too. I think that was a bad idea."

"I think you're entitled to a bad decision or two," he soothes, wrapping her hand in gauze and kissing the spot where it ends, laying it down in her lap gently. "Especially right now."

"I'm not entitled to anything," she grumbles quietly, rolling her eyes. "Nothing but misery and guilt."

"This isn't your fault, Kate," he tries to convince her. "You couldn't have known it would happen, any of it. This isn't on you."

She shrugs it off, unwilling to listen. Her eyes dart to the ballerina photo, relishing in the healthy little girl smiling back at her. "She would've loved school," she thinks out loud. "She'd be starting first grade soon, reading and writing…"

Castle can't take the crushed tone of her voice anymore and stands abruptly, the stool flying backwards. "Kate," he sighs, pacing back and forth between the living room and kitchen, "you can't spend the rest of your life mourning over what she would have been."

"The hell I can't," she cries in outrage. "You don't know what it's like, Castle! Your daughter is brilliant, and beautiful, and _alive_. You don't have to power through everyday, putting your regrets and your worries and your emotions into a steel box at the bottom of your brain because a single thought of your daughter isn't going to send you spiraling into a mental breakdown!

"You don't have to mourn over what she would have been because you know! You _know, _Castle! You can see her going full steam ahead into a wonderful future! Alexis is going to do something amazing with her life; she's going to make a difference. You _know_.

"Me? I can only imagine. Maybe Rory would be a doctor or a lawyer. But maybe she would have hated school, dropped out and started a band. Maybe she would have been famous, or maybe she would have been a missionary. The point is:_ I_ don't know, and I _never _will!

"Your daughter is _here_, Castle," she emphasizes. "You can see her for all that she is. Mine's not." She turns around, attacking the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve and a vengeance, already _so damn sick _of letting him see her cry.

He sidles up behind her, pulling her hands away from her face as he molds his chest into her back. "You don't have to hide from me, Kate," he murmurs, his mouth right next to her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "You misunderstood," he corrects her, laying his chin down on her shoulder. "I'm not saying to forget about her, but speculation won't bring you anything besides this heartache. Remember her for what she _was_, not for what she _could_ have been. Because you're right; you don't know. But you _do _know what you got to experience, and what you got to experience is far greater than anything else you ever will."

"But she could've been so much," she chokes, blinded by her grief as she clutches his hands in front of her, digging her nails into his skin as she pulls them tighter around her waist. "She would've been so wonderful."

"I know," he says uselessly, squeezing her tightly. "She would've been just like you," he muses, picture mother and daughter next to each other. "Brilliant… frustrating… _extraordinary_… and tall. Just like you."

She snorts in spite of her self, smacking him lightly on his upper arm. "Yeah," she agrees wistfully, imagining her daughter learning to ride a bike, getting it on the first go without training wheels, learning how to drive, walking across the stage at her high school graduation… "Yeah."

They stand there together for minutes, hours, days, before a thought occurs to Castle. "Y'know, I googled you once. After you brought me in for questioning on Allison Tisdale. I never found anything… nothing even hinted…"

"I kept out of the public eye," she shrugs sadly. "Maybe if I hadn't, they would have brought her back, though something tells me they wouldn't have. We issued an amber alert, of course," she assures him. "Sent her picture out to stations and hospitals all around New England and, eventually, further, I just never made any public pleas or anything." He's silent, taking in all of this new information.

"I failed her, didn't I?" she interprets his silent as judgment. "You can say it; it's nothing new to me."

"No, Kate," Castle breathes, hugging her tightly once more. "You loved her. That's all anybody could ever ask of you."

"Love isn't always enough, Castle; what did it ever get me? My daughter in the ground and a broken heart? Love is horseshit."

"Kate-"

"I should've paid more attention," she laments, her throat constricting. "I should've noticed."

"You couldn't have. I think you're lucky the tumor caused the seizure when it did. Well," he rushes on, "maybe _lucky _isn't right, exactly. But if it was that small when you brought it in, there probably wouldn't have been any other symptoms to notice. Imagine if she hadn't seized for another month or two; it could've been three times the size it was. She probably wouldn't have had a chance."

"Does it really seem like she had a chance anyway to you?"

"Look," he goes to defend himself.

"No," she stops him. "You're right. You're trying to show me a little bit of light here; you're trying to help and I'm just tearing it all down. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. I do know that you're going through something terrible, and nonsensical, and pointless, but I just want you to see that there can be a brighter side to it all. That's all. I…" he trails off, not wanting to overstep. _As if he hasn't already._

"What?" she encourages, leaning her head back to look up at him.

"I know you lost yourself in your mother's murder," he treads carefully, "and I think that this is significantly worse than that. I just don't want to see you fall so far that you can't stand up again. I don't want you to lose yourself."

"Sometimes I wish I could," she admits. "Just escape from it all, let all of this pain be over. Sometimes."

"Please don't," he begs. "I'm right here, Kate. Please call me when you feel like that. I'll be right here."

"I know you will," she smiles. "Thank you." She steps forward, out of his embrace, and moves to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. She needs distance and something to cool off her burning face. "Do you want anything?" she offers, pressing the plastic to her forehead.

"I'm good, thanks," he declines. "Are you all right?"

"I will be," she grimaces, moving the bottle to her cheek. "Eventually."

He's not exactly convinced, but takes what he can get. A year ago he wouldn't even be here, let alone breaking through her thick skull, holding her while she cries, witnessing her at her worst. He believes that if she's not okay, she'll let him know.

"Do you have to work today?"

"Nah," she sighs gratefully. "I have the weekend off."

"Why don't you come back to the Hamptons with me? Get out of the city, get some fresh air. no responsibilities. Just a couple of days to clear your head and be free."

She shouldn't say yes and she knows it. It's not her place to go on a vacation, no matter how small; she doesn't have to right to get away and clear her head. But she's selfish, and a weekend away from it all sounds _so damn good_.

"Okay," she agrees. "But I'm not skinny-dipping with you."

"Aw," he pouts, giving her the puppy-dog look as she laughs, leaving him to go back a small bag.

"You'll get over it!" she tosses over her shoulder.

"Wanna bet?"

xxx

"Wow Castle, you rich or something?" Beckett wonders out loud, scrutinizing his property in awe.

"Well, I'm no James Patterson, but I do all right," he smirks, slinging her overnight bag over one shoulder and wrapping his other arm around her waist, tugging her towards the front door.

"I'll say." She doesn't think she's ever seen a house so big, let alone spent the weekend in one. The front lawn is rolling with bright green grass, wildflowers adorn a beautiful garden lining the front porch, and she can't even see the ocean from where she stands, the house, _mansion!,_ blocking her view.

She can hear it, though, and she can smell it, so strong that she's sure she can already taste the salt in the air and on her lips. He gives her a tour of the house, leaving her to her own devices while he goes to come up with a solution for dinner.

He comes looking for her a couple of hours later, a reservation made at a decent touristy restaurant. It's nothing too fancy but it's no hole in the wall, either, and he thinks she'll like it.

When he doesn't find her in her room he thinks nothing of it; there's still the office, library, and lounge. When she's not there either he starts to get worried, rushing outside to check the pool when he spots her lonely little figure down the beach.

"Beckett?" she hears him call, still a ways away as she leans forward to look at the garden of sand and stones just beyond the water's edge.

_"Not so close, Rory!" Kate yells as her daughter stumbles down to where the beach meets the Atlantic, scrunching her nose as the sand sticks between her toes._

_"Wanna see fishies!" she insists, leaning forward to peer into the water, not even an inch deep, lapping at her toes. She screeches as a wave takes her out, tossing her onto her butt a couple of feet from where she started. "No fishies," she complains as Kate runs over, grasping her under the arms and lifting her easily, just as another wave crashes onto the beach._

_"Not this close to the beach," Kate tells her. "They don't like to be tossed around in the waves."_

_"Me either."_

"No fishies," she mutters absentmindedly, crouching to dip her fingers in.

_"Look, Mommy! Look!" Rory comes running towards their towel, a fist pressed against her chest and the other arm waving wildly at her side._

_"What'd you find?" Kate asks, closing her book and sitting up straight. _

_"I dunno!" Rory opens her hand, thrusting her prize towards her mother. "It tickles."_

_"That's because it's a snail," Kate explains, picking it up by the shell. "See? It kind of sticks itself to your hand while it moves."_

_"Oh," she answers, disinterested, as she takes it back. "Keep it?"_

_"No, baby. This kind of snail likes the water – we can't bring it back home with us." _

Kate finds a tiny snail stuck on a rock, slowly progressing from one end to the other. She picks it up just as Castle reaches her, holding it in front of her face to watch the snail up close.

"Hey," he puffs, leaning against his knees. "What're you doing?"

_"Diggin'."_

_"Why?"_

_"So my snail can't get away."_

_"Oh, Rory, you need to let the snail go home."_

_"Want to play tomorrow," she disagrees, setting the creature at the bottom of her hole._

_"If you don't let the snail go home he might die, Rory. He needs to go home so he can have dinner and go to sleep, much like you."_

_"But I miss him," her voice wavers, lower lip sticking out at her mother. _

_"I know you will, but how would you feel if a bigger kid decided they were going to put _you_ in a hole so that you couldn't go home? Please go put him back?"_

_"Okay," she sniffles, taking it out of the hole and bringing it back to the waters edge. "Bye bye, snail," she sings, waving her hand as she trudges back to her mother. _

_...  
_

_You need to let it go. "_Just looking."

"You hungry?"

"I could eat," she nods, putting the snail and his rock back where she got them. "What'd you have in mind?"

"We've got a reservation at seven in town. Nice little place, could probably get just about anything."

"Sounds good, Castle. Thank you."

xxx

She's just finishing the last of her lobster ravioli when a new thought occurs to him and, of course, he's unable to tuck it away to bring up later. "Sleeping Beauty?"

"I'm sorry?" she's stunned, fork halfway to her mouth and one eyebrow raised at him.

"Aurora," he clarifies. "Sleeping Beauty?"

"Oh," she mouths, realization dawning. "Ah, no. No…. _aurora borealis_." She sets her fork down, wiping her hands on the napkin in her lap and reaching for her wine. "The northern lights. She, ah… She was born about five years after my mom died, but I was still pretty down and she just… she made the whole bright again," she shrugs, taking a sip. "She cleared my vision, made me realize that there was more to my life than my mom's death. She was beauty and light in the dead of night."

"Five years," he latches on, "….so-"

She rolls her eyes, huffing. "Yeah, it's what you're thinking."

"We worked with him for how long? And he never said a thing." He's enraged; how could anybody pretend that something like this had never happened, especially when face to face with the woman you'd gone through it all with? But then again, here was Beckett, keeping it inside for years.

"He never knew, Castle. I found out I was pregnant a couple of weeks before he told me he was going to Boston. I had it confirmed with the doctor the day before. I was going to tell him when we went to dinner, but he beat me to it."

"You just let him go?"

"I wasn't going to be the reason he didn't pursue his dreams, even though I think you and I both know he wouldn't have stayed; he would have demanded I go with him, and that sure as hell wasn't happening.

"Looking back, I know I should have told him; he had the right to decide whether or not he wanted to be a part of our lives. But I don't regret not doing so… we got on just fine without him. I may not have been there for dinner every night, might have missed bedtime every now and then, but she was a happy little girl all the same."

"He's one of the best in the field," Castle ponders, tilting his head to the side. "How was he not involved with the case?"

"I don't know," she shrugs, re-spearing the last ravioli on her fork. "I definitely didn't request him, but I didn't specifically ask for someone else, either. That's just how it all worked out, I guess."


	8. Chapter 8

They enjoy the rest of their weekend together, Beckett for the brief reprieve from the monotony of her everyday life and, as long as she's being honest, Castle's company has had quite a bit to do with it, too. Even after returning home, Castle is still relishing in the relaxed openness that Kate had exhibited for the past few days.

He drops her off at her own apartment late Sunday night, terrified that when he sees her next she'll have closed her shutters again, re-cemented the few bricks he's managed to tear down from her wall. He's sure that if she finds out about what he's planning to do that's exactly what'll happen, but... he can't not.

There's so much more to the story, so much that he doesn't know, that _she _doesn't know. So while what he's doing is in part selfish curiosity, the need for a resolution, he really does just want to bring her closure. He wants to be able to tell her what really happened, just like with the manner of Johanna's death back when they first met. He knows she'll probably be furious with him again but, while it may hurt her at first, it will undoubtedly make her stronger in the end.

She'd said it herself; not knowing is the worst part.

He just hopes she'll remember that.

xxx

He parks the car a block away, as though setting up for a stakeout. His sunglasses are secure on his face as he gets out, casually glancing up and down the block like somebody he knows is going to appear out of thin air to reprimand him.

_Pull it together, Castle_. He reprimands himself with a shake of his head, slamming the car door shut and quickly blending into the foot traffic on the sidewalk, keeping their hurried pace until he reaches the entrance to the twenty-seventh precinct.

It's been two weeks since he'd driven Kate back to the city and decided to cancel the rest of his summer plans. He'd popped in and out of the precinct, but spent far less time there than normal, choosing to hole up in his office.

He'd spent hours sifting through thousands of Google results for Kate Beckett, Katherine Beckett, Detective Beckett NYPD, Detective Kate Beckett NYPD, and Detective Katherine Beckett NYPD, half of which had to do with Johanna's murder and half of which had to do with various cases that she'd been involved with over the years.

Starting over, he searched for Aurora Beckett. The first hit was a link to her page with the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. He dragged it into a new tab and continued down the first page, pulling an article from the _Times_ as well as Fox News and NBC.

He clicked over to the first discovery, which contained nothing new to him other than her specific height and weight. Next he clicked over to the _Times, _browsing through a general timeline of the day she disappeared and a few quotes from the lead investigator. _James Mikhail._

He copied the name into the search bar and hit enter, finding a link to the NYPD's official website, the particular address leading him to a profile on Detective James Mikhail, age forty-two, twenty-seventh precinct.

Which is how he ended up here, climbing the steps to the third floor and asking the first uniform he sees where he can find Detective Mikhail. He's pointed towards an office at the back. _Captain _Mikhail, then.

"Come on in," an absentminded voice calls from within as he knocks on the door. "Do I know you?" he asks when he realizes his visitor is not one of his officers.

"You might," Castle shrugs, stepping inside and closing the door. "I'm Richard Castle." He holds out his hand, shaking Mikhail's firmly.

"Oh, yes…. You're the tag-along down at the twelfth. Who's the lucky muse, again?"

"Kate Beckett," he says, standing tall and watching the detective as though he knows more than he really does.

He double takes again, mouth dropping open in shock. "That's right," he muses, tilting his head. "I read about that. How…. How is she?"

"She's been much better, I'm sure."

"Of course. So to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Castle?"

"I was hoping I could convince you to share Rory's case file with me," he poses, using the moniker in hopes of proving how familiar he is with the situation. "I'm not questioning you or your team's abilities, but I find it quite unbelievable that nobody saw anything. I've been working with Kate for over two years now and while I'm certainly no professional, I have managed to crack a few of our cases. I hope that I might spot something previously overlooked."

"Mr. Castle…. That case has been cold for years. The only evidence that ever arose was from the day Aurora Beckett went missing; nothing new ever presented itself. There've been no sightings, no anonymous tips that ever even seemed reliable. I'm afraid that it's more than likely that she died days, if not hours, after leaving the hospital."

"That's what Kate seems to think," Castle nods sadly. "But I'm more inclined to believe that she may still be out there, somewhere. I'm more of the glass half full kind of guy."

Mikhail sighs, staring at Castle as he thinks over his request. "Since you're a civilian investigator, I assume you've signed all of the waivers and liability forms?"

"Of course," Castle nods.

"I will get you a copy of the file," Mikhail starts, "but it is not to leave your possession. You've signed the contracts, so hopefully you've read them as well. If you pass those files on to anyone else, there will be consequences, Mr. Castle."

"Understood," he promises.

James stares him down, waiting to see if he'll break under his scrutinizing gaze. "Wait here," he orders once he's satisfied that Castle is everything he claims to be.

He returns some time later, a relatively thin folder in his grasp. "Consequences, Mr. Castle," he reminds him before handing it over.

"Understood," he repeats, opening the folder and flicking through the sheets. "What about security footage?" he broaches, noting the lack of a disc or drive.

"The FBI took over footage analysis. They may also have more in the way of case files, though I doubt it, but I'm afraid that you won't be able to get your hands on those. If you're lucky the hospital may still have copies from the day; I don't remember if they'd switched over to digital monitoring, yet."

"Right. Thank you so much, Captain. Um… would you mind if I called you, if I had any questions?"

"I suppose not. And, on the off chance that you do manage to find something we missed, please let me know. The case may be cold but it's technically still open, and I'm still lead investigator."

"Will do," Castle assures him, reaching to shake his hand once more. "Thank you again, Captain Mikhail. Really."

"Do not make me regret this decision, Mr. Castle."

"I won't."

xxx

He rushes home to flip through the flimsy file, learning absolutely nothing more than what Kate had told him about the day, other than specific times and physical details about Rory.

_Aurora Lynne Beckett _

_DOB 07/12/04_

_DOD 12/19/07, arbitrarily_

_Eyes: Green_

_Hair: Brown_

_Height: 29.5"_

_Weight: 25.2 lb_

_Status: Unknown_

_Case: Open_

_Timeline 12/19/07_

_4:43:00 pm: Katherine Beckett leaves Aurora Beckett's hospital room, later confirmed to be down the hall filling out paperwork._

_4:45:43 pm: Elizabeth Larkin, nurse, leaves the room, confirmed to be at nurse's station down the hall during the event._

_4:52:07 pm: Katherine Beckett returns to room to discover Aurora Beckett missing. _

The file goes on to discuss the particular times of the hospital lockdown, police's arrival, and ensuing search of the building.

There are interview notes with various employees and even a few patients, but Kate was right. Nobody saw a God dammed thing.

CSU had turned up a few fingerprints, but they all belonged to Kate, Rory's doctor, who was in an emergency surgery at the time, the nurse who'd been at the nurse's station, and the night nurse, who'd been at home with her family at the time. None of them were unidentifiable.

There were no unmatched hairs, no clothing fibers, no footprints, nothing. Aurora Beckett had literally vanished into thin air.

xxx

He decides to take a break from investigating when the file, in essence, lands him back at square one. Pushing back from his desk slowly, he stretches his arms out, twisting his back until it cracks before pushing his neck to either side, releasing some of the built-up tension of the day.

Noticing the time he decides to go pick up Chinese and drop by the precinct; he's sure that Kate won't have eaten and he's sure the boys would appreciate it, too. He calls ahead to order everyone's favorite, stopping by the coffee shop down the street first to pick up Kate's favorite, and makes it to the precinct shortly after six.

"Hey, Castle!" Ryan looks up as he steps off the elevator, smiling in his direction. "Didn't think we'd see you in today."

"Didn't make it quite as far as I would've liked in my…. Research," he shrugs, setting the food down on Kate's desk. "Where's Beckett?"

"She went home about an hour ago, actually. Said she still wasn't feeling quite right, so I took the paperwork that needs to be turned in tonight off her hands and told her to go."

"Thank you, Ryan," Castle smiles gratefully. "Here, I brought dinner." He separates out the boys' orders, depositing Esposito's on his desk.

"Oh, sweet. This is great, Castle," Ryan sighs, inhaling the open carton of fried rice. "Thank you!"

"You enjoy that, Ryan, but not too much," he jokes, heading out as the detective moans around a bite of Kung Pao chicken.

He makes it to Kate's by six forty-five, knocking with his foot as he balances their bags in one hand and her coffee in the other.

She doesn't take long to answer, surprised to see him on the other side. "Hey, Castle," she sighs tiredly. "What're you doin' here?"

"I brought dinner," he offers, holding the bags out proudly. "Got your coffee, too, but I stopped by the precinct first so it's probably cooled off."

She steps back to let him in, closing the door softly in his wake. "Thanks, Castle."

"Figured you probably wouldn't have eaten, and Ryan said you hadn't been feeling well so I wanted to see how you were doing, too," he admits.

"I've been better," she shrugs, dumping out their food on the counter. "But I'm hanging in there. It'll be better in a few days, I think." She adds some of her teriyaki chicken to her carton of rice and heads for the couch. He scoops up his own meal and follows after her, sinking into the cushion beside her, instead of the one on the other end.

"_Lilo and Stitch_?" he questions as she hits play, the movie picking back up where she must've left off when he'd knocked.

"Yeah," she nods, taking a bite. "It's one of her favorite non-princess movies."

"Alexis' too," he offers. "Had to take her to see it in the theatre three times."

"She would've liked to see it on the big screen, I'm sure," Kate smiles wistfully. "I never got the chance to take her to the movies."

"Oh, Kate," Castle sighs, abandoning his meal in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She freezes for a moment but eventually allows herself to sink into his side, picking at her own dinner until she dozes off against him.

He takes the remote from next to her and clicks off the movie, lifting his feet to the coffee table and settling into the back of the couch. "It'll get better, Kate," he promises, leaning his head against hers. "We'll figure it out."


	9. Chapter 9

**lv2bnsb1**: Rory was three when she disappeared. The average weight of a three-year-old female is 31 pounds, give or take. Take into account the fact that she'd spent the last year or so in and out of the hospital, receiving radiation and chemo, which can cause loss of appetite and the inability to keep anything down, and 25 pounds is pretty reasonable. She would've been skin and bones.

**Everyone else: **Thank you so much for the amazing response to this story. I don't think I expected to get this much attention for the entire thing, let alone the first few chapters.

* * *

Castle spends the next couple of months struggling to put together a timeline akin to the precinct's murder board. He orders a fancy touch screen monitor a few days after visiting Captain Mikhail, sketching out a preliminary outline while waiting for it to come in.

By the time it arrives he's got the skeleton perfected based on what he knows, starting from the day Rory was born and reaching out to the day that she vanished. He transfers it to the screen, taking the time to mess with the font and organization, color-coding everything and adding pictures.

Once the skeleton is done he moves to elaborate, filling in details from the case files, the internet, and what little Kate has told him. He makes little off branches for theories and sections of a blank space for questions, of which there are many, before he has finally done all that he can. All in all it takes about three months between the waiting, keeping up with his regular schedule at the precinct, and taking a three-week book tour around the states for Naked Heat.

When he's sure that there's no more he can do with the information he has he marks off a day, one in which he is supposedly supposed to be in back to back meetings with Black Pawn, and heads off to try and get his hands on the last thing that might be able to shed any sort of light.

He takes a taxi this time, unwilling to battle the traffic around Central Park and Madison Ave on his own, and tips the cabbie generously, thanking him for his patience despite Castle' general antsiness. He stops at the security desk just before the main lobby of the hospital, identifying himself and requesting to speak with somebody who would've been on duty the afternoon that Rory disappeared.

"What business do you have regarding her?" the security officer asks suspiciously.

"I work with her mother. Nikki Heat?" he offers. "She's the inspiration. I've come across a couple of discrepancies in Rory's case files," he lies smoothly. "I'm hoping to be able to compare them to the tapes; James Mikhail said that if any of the footage was still available it would be here."

"I'll make some calls. Sit over there," the officer orders, nodding to one of the many benches around the room.

Castle stares at the same painting for nearly an hour waiting for somebody to get back to him. "Richard Castle?" He looks up to find a man, in his mid-fifties at least, standing over him.

"Yes?" He jumps up, eagerly awaiting what the man has to say.

"Sullivan," is all he says, holding out his hand. "I do not have the authority to give you copies of our security footage, nor do you have the authority to receive them, but I've checked your story and if you'd like to come with me, I will give you a couple of minutes to look them over."

"That would be fantastic," he grins, sighing in relief. "Thank you so much." The man nods, turning to lead Castle through the crowd in the hospital's main lobby, past the sorry excuse of a bookstore tucked into a corner and into an elevator.

When they got off at the right floor, they take a few turns and enter a box of room, thin carpeting with coffee stains covering the floor. "Phil, this is Rick Castle," Sullivan says, sounding bored. "He's gonna use the desktop to watch the footage from a case he's involved with."

Phil grunts in acknowledgement, eyes not darting away from his laptop screen, and Sullivan points to the ancient PC in the corner. "It's all queued up."

Castle nods, thanking the man once again before squeezing past Phil and taking a seat in front of the screen. He presses play, eyes greedily taking in every little detail. The time stamp reads _12/19/07_ _4:42:46 pm _and seconds later he can see Beckett stroll through the door nearest the camera. She stops for a second, just outside, and glance towards the camera before heading the other way.

He takes a moment to rewind, pausing just before she turns away. Her hair is dark, probably almost black, falling down to the middle of her back at least. He's never seen her so exhausted, so defeated before. This doesn't even compare to her demeanor after she'd had to shoot Coonan in the precinct.

There are flats on her feet, her arms are wrapping a sweater at least twice the size of her around her body, her shoulders hunch, causing her body to cave in on itself, and it could just be the grain of the quality but it looks like she's got mascara smeared under her eyes. His heart splits right down the middle as he hits play again, a shudder running through her entire body before she walks down the hall and out of sight.

As he waits for the nurse to leave the room he studies the hall; a cart, probably for laundry or cafeteria trays, sits right outside of Rory's room. There are photographs of things like puppies and flowers adorning the walls, as well as what he supposes must be colorful bulletin boards and children's drawings. There are two other doorways clearly defined in the frame, the edge of a nurse's station, and the grainy hall beyond it.

There's nothing suspicious about it all, not even another person until the nurse finally leaves the room and takes a seat behind the counter at the station. She writes something down on the clipboard in her hands, sets it down, and pushes away, leaving just the back of her head in the frame.

That's all that happens for five minutes, before the nurse rolls back to the counter and Beckett reappears at the edge of the field of vision. She stumbles down the hallway in a daze, stopping again just outside the door, leaning her head against the wall in what is more than likely an effort to pull herself together for her daughter's sake. She takes a deep breath and pushes off, steps into the doorway and freezes. Suddenly there's a rush from the nurse's station, the same one from before and another that'd been hiding out of view, and moments later a doctor dashes into the picture.

It's chaos from there, calming down for a few minutes while the doctor explains something, but after he makes a couple of phone calls all hell breaks loose again. Kate is hysterical through it all, not knowing what to do with herself as life carries on around her while she's suspended in time. She trips into Rory's room as everybody else edges off camera and he stops the feed, knowing that nothing else will be of any use; just the investigators looking around.

He leans back in the seat, drags his palm over his face as he sighs. He knew that there would be nothing, but actually seeing it…. Rory was in that room when her mother left and gone when she returned, and not once did anybody pass through that door besides the leaving nurse. Where could she have possibly gone?

Castle shakes his head, at a complete and utter loss. There's no way he can figure anything out with this footage, not here. But could it be enhanced? Really, though, should he bother to try? It's not like they'd shrunken the poor girl and it would take HD to pick her out of the background. She had not come through that doorway.

It doesn't matter, though. He needs this file. He throws a glance at Phil, who is still enraptured with whatever it is he's doing on his own machine, so Castle pulls the flash drive from his pocket and slides it into the tower, dragging the file into the window that appears and pulling the device out as soon as the loading bar has reached its end. He closes out the windows and clears his throat, standing up as he does so.

"Well, thank you for your time, Phil," he says, politely making a beeline for the door. Phil grunts once more and Castle darts out of the room, forcing himself to walk calmly and inconspicuously back down to the lobby. He doesn't see Sullivan as he leaves but throws a thankful wave towards the man who had first spoken with him. The guy nods his acknowledgement and Castle bolts, shoving the revolving door roughly and hailing a cab a six blocks away.

When he gets home he downloads the content of the drive to his laptop, locking the file and labeling it so that anyone who might happen to see it would think it had to do with Nikki Heat. Then he pours himself a glass of scotch, sinking into the couch in frustration. _This is_ _like a real life forty-eight hours. _How would he ever solve it?

xxx

He doesn't sleep much that night, his writer's mind coming up with fantastical plots that involve taking her through the ceiling and out through an air-conditioning duct. Unfortunately, nothing he comes up with holds any amount of plausibility. Still, it might be a good idea to map out the hallway, find out where all of the vents would run in comparison to her room.

He gets out of bed to start a new outline, filling in what he knows from the security camera and making a note to track down the floor plan for the hospital, or somebody who would know it.

He supposes that, with the right equipment and size, a person might have been able to sneak her out through the drop ceiling. It's not likely, but it's really the only thing he has to go on right now. She didn't go through the door and she couldn't have gone through the window, so for now the ceiling is the only option.

His minds starts wandering to scenarios involving ninjas, elaborate rope lifts and the like, and he knows it's time to stop. This is a serious matter, one that does not deserve to be fantasized. This isn't one of his books and ninjas did not take Kate Beckett's daughter.

xxx

He shuffles into the precinct two hours late the next morning, so tired he hands Kate the wrong coffee, failing to realize even as he takes a sip of hers that it is far too fatless for him.

She tugs her cup from his grip, sliding his into his fingers. "What's wrong, Castle?" she asks with concern, as his eyes drift shut.

"Ninja's didn't take your daughter," he mumbles through a yawn, her eyes going wide as she chokes on her drink.

"I never suspected that they had," she says carefully, looking around to make sure nobody had heard him.

"That's why you're the sensible one," he reasons, eyes still closed. "Because she didn't go through the door, and she couldn't have gone through the window, so that leaves the ceiling as the last path of escape which, in theory, would require ninjas. That's the only way everything would've been done and left undisturbed in such a short amount of time," he shrugs his shoulders clumsily, knocking his hand into the arm of the chair and spilling some of the coffee down his hand.

His eyes snap open and he shakes his head roughly, wiping the scalding liquid on his pants. "I am so sorry, Kate. I didn't sle-"

'That much is obvious," she interrupts him. "Go home and take a nap Castle," she says quietly. "We can talk about your ninja theory later."

"C'mon, Bro," Esposito stops next to him. "Really? You think ninja's would've just left Gregory's body on a park bench?" He rolls his eyes and continues on to the break room, tossing back over his shoulder, "they'd have chopped him into tiny pieces and fed him to sharks."

Kate can't help the tiny sob that escapes her at chopping him into tiny pieces, slapping a hand over her mouth and quickly morphing it into a cough.

"You're right, Espo," Castle shakes his head, putting his hand on Kate's shoulder and squeezing softly. "Don't know what I was thinking." He leans in closely to whisper, "Not ninjas, remember?" before letting go of her.

She nods, catching her breath as he stands up again. "Of course. Go sleep, Castle," she reiterates, giving him a shove. "I'll see you later."

xxx

She knocks on his door a few hours later, takeout under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other. "So, ninjas?" she quirks her brow at him, sidestepping into the loft as soon as the door swings open.

"About that," he groans, letting the door swing shut on its own as he moves to follow her. "Look, I didn't mean to bring anything up, especially not at work and especially not _that_."

"I know you didn't mean anything by it, Castle," she assures him quietly, handing him a burger. "I'm just curious as to what prompted it." She shrugs casually, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich as she watches him. "Why ninjas?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about this?" he tries to evade, selfishly playing on her emotions. "We do-"

"_Castle_. I'm not a porcelain doll," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "I might crack but I'm not going to shatter. We can talk about it."

"That's not exactly what I meant…"

"Castle, you're my partner. Regardless of whether I wanted it to happen or not, it's your business now. You don't have to pretend to not think about it; you don't have to avoid the topic. Yeah, it's a sore subject. Of course it is, but that doesn't mean that we have to pretend nothing ever happened." Her eyes tear up and she presses her fist to her mouth, shaking her head. "Not anymore, because it did happen and that's…. that's the way it is, and it's okay to talk about it."

He watches as she quickly stitches herself back together, waiting for him to explain. He gives in, nodding his agreement, and begins. "Ninjas," he mutters, shaking his head. How stupid could he get? "I was just thinking about how she didn't go through the door. She couldn't go through the window. That leaves the ceiling. How could she have possibly gotten into the ceiling?"

"And you went with ninjas," she laughs, matter-of-factly. "Ninjas swept Rory away through the ceiling."

"Well do you have anything better?" he counters, not even thinking, treating the theory as though it were that of a regular case.

"No." Her eyes cloud over, staring into space as she hugs herself tightly. "No, I don't."

"Dammit," he curses, stepping forward and pulling her into his chest. She shoves her face into his neck, clutching at his sides as she collapses into him.

"I guess I am a porcelain doll," she mourns, squeezing him tightly.

"But think about how beautiful they are, even after you glue'em back together," he counters. "Make'em one of a kind. Y'know, s'long as they're not the ones that follow your every move and try to kill you in your sleep."

She pulls away to meet his eyes, crinkling at the corners as he smirks down at her. "Collector's edition," he whispers, rubbing the tears off of her cheek with his thumb. She rolls her eyes, letting him catch just a glimpse of her grin before returning to her spot under his chin.

"I guess you're not so bad yourself, Castle," she pinches his sides, delighting in the high-pitched shriek he emits.

"Devil woman," he corrects, disentangling from her and moving to hide on the other side of the island.

"Wuss," she counters, stepping towards him slowly. He slaps her hand away as she reaches to pinch him again.

"Devil woman," he repeats, jumping away. "Have you no mercy?"

"Pour me a glass of wine and we'll talk." She steps back, grabbing up her sandwich and fries as she leaves him behind to situate herself on the couch.

He stares after her, in awe of her ability to snap right back into herself. She really is a porcelain doll, but not one of those stalkery ones. Fragile, yet exquisite. And so much stronger than he ever would have been.


	10. Chapter 10

I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. I don't particularly like rewriting bits from the show, but in this case it was necessary to try and show how this Kate is affected differently than canon Kate. I'm not very fond of it but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

* * *

"Hey Pumpkin, I was just calling to check in, see how you're doing."

"Well Dad, since I last spoke to you an hour and a half ago, I've finished the paper that I was starting when you called me three hours ago, and started a last minute review for the chemistry test that I'll be taking when you try to call me in another ninety minutes."

"That's great, Sweetie. Proud of you!"

"You should be; I almost threw my phone into the toilet after your last call. _But_ I _didn't_!"

"Castle, leave her alone," Beckett huffs, dropping back into her seat and pushing his mug across the desk.

"But I-"

"No buts. I'm going to throw _your _phone in the toilet," she threatens.

"Thanks, Detective!" she can hear Alexis call out. "I'll talk to you later, Dad. And by later, I mean at home. In a few hours. _Face to face_."

"Is this some subtle-"

"Not subtle, Dad. Please stop calling me; I am safe and sound within school grounds. I promise."

"Okay, Sweetie," he sighs. "I'll see you soon."

"At home," she pushes.

"Yes, at home," he confirms, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Kid."

"Castle, you have got to calm down," Beckett shakes her head as he hangs up. "You keep this up and she's going to block you_._"

"Can she do that?" he gasps, looking up in horror.

"Probably not without your account information, but the point still remains. Trust me, I know you worry about her. Nobody knows better than I do, but this is beyond ridiculous. She's going to be fine, Castle; Tyson would not have stuck around. He's _smart, _and besides that Alexis isn't his MO! She's safe. Tyler, on the other hand… He's probably not, and we need to find him. Now."

He recognizes the slight waver in her tone, sees the resolve in her eyes. "You're right," he nods, meeting her gaze. It astounds him how quickly their rolls can reverse, she the strong, resolute one in one moment and the barely held together mess the next. "We will," he assures her, grabbing her hand and squeezing. "We'll find him."

xxx

"Ace. Ace… A C E. Bus lines? Subway? …Subway. They're holding him in the subway!" Castle shouts, spinning away from the murder board and jumping back when he sees Beckett standing right in front of him.

"What?"

"The subway. That's why there was an eight-minute delay between creating and sending the video! They had to come up to find a signal… Where do the three lines cross?"

"Ah… give me a second," she mutters, waking up her computer and pulling up the map. "Looks like they all dead end at the same place…." she muses. "Let me try and get the address…. Oh my God."

"What? What's wrong?"

"That station isn't in use, and it's right under Dean's building. If you're right, they're holding him right under our noses."

"I'm right," he says. "We have to go."

xxx

"Where do you think they're holding him?" he whispers, looking across the tracks at the door to an emergency exit. "There're hideaways all over the place."

"They'll have him out of the way," she thinks out loud. "It won't be off the main track, they wouldn't want to risk running into anybody or having anyone hear them. They'll be towards the very end of the tracks, or off in one of the service tunnels. Service tunnel is most likely, I think. Which way?"

"One sec," he requests, struggling with the blueprints to the station. "Uhm…. This way," he points down the side of the track they're already on and then hooks his finger, "and to the left."

She creeps off in the direction he'd indicated, listening carefully for any signs of life, stopping a few doors into the tunnel without warning, causing Castle to crash into her and knock her over. "Jesus Christ, Kate," he swears, reaching out in a vain attempt to catch her. "Are you all right?"

"Shh!" she orders, accepting his hand and letting him haul her up. "Listen."

He does, straining to hear anything in the silence. "Pacing?" he whispers, picking up on the faint repetitive footsteps.

She nods, hurrying to find their source. "Wait!" He grabs her, pulling her back into his chest and running his hands down her sides gently, moving towards the wrist she'd caught herself with. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Castle," she huffs, suppressing the shivers that his hands are trying to evoke. "C'mon."

He lets her go, trailing a few steps farther back incase she stops again. She does, putting her hand out behind her to stop him this time, and presses her ear against the door. He stops her just before her heel makes contact with the heavy metal.

"Are you insane?!" he mouths, holding up a finger as he pulls out his phone. He opens the camera app, shuts off the flash and leans down, snapping a picture through the crack.

"One," he lets her know, pointing to the left side of the door. "Gun," he makes sure to enunciate clearly. "Tyler," he adds, pointing to the right. "Wait!" He ignores the glare she sends his way as she throws her hands out to the side in frustration. _Now is not the time for waiting. _

Castle steps back a few feet, gently prying open the cover of a circuit breaker. One, two, three, he motions, shutting down the power to the entire tunnel. The door crashes open, _bang, bang, bang,_ and everything is silent.

"Beckett?" he whimpers, heart pounding as he runs to the door, completely forgetting everything he'd ever learned about covering his own ass. He sighs as he sees her kneeling in front of the boy, gently untaping his hands and feet.

"Hi, Tyler," she says quietly. "My name is Kate, and I'm a detective with the NYPD. I'm so glad to see that you're all right."

"Is my dad okay?" he asks immediately. "They said they were going to use him to get to the top of his building, and it didn't sound like they were going to just let him walk when they were done. Did you find him?"

"Our people are in the lobby of the building right now, but I don't know if they've got your dad," she says honestly. "I _do_ know that they're doing everything they can to help him."

He nods bravely, jumping out of the chair as soon as he's free and throwing his arms around Kate. "Thank you," he cries, though he quickly steps back in embarrassment. "Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah," she laughs, slinging her arm over his shoulders and tucking him into her side. "Let's get out of here."

They take him back to the precinct, feed him as they wait to hear about his father; it only takes about an hour for the other group to make it back to the precinct. "Hey Tyler," Beckett calls, coming into the break room where he's playing cards with Castle. "Your parents are here."

"My dad?"

She nods, holding out her hand. "Thanks, Rick," he grins, high-fiving Castle before grabbing Beckett's hand. "Thank you, Kate."

She smiles down at him, squeezing his hand as she swings it between them. "No problem, kid."

"I hope you find whatever _you're _looking for," he says, giving her one last hug before running into his family's arms.

She stands there in shock, watching him hug his mother and stepfather before tackling his dad. Castle sidles up besides her, touching her shoulder tentatively. "Kids are perceptive," he notes, watching Tyler head home. "You were too good with him, the situation too familiar to you. He noticed."

"I… I don't…"

"I know. And I know you don't want to do this here so I'm going to distract you. Guess what."

"Castle…"

"Humor me," he grins, a suspicious twinkle in his eye.

"Fine." She bumps her hip into his. "What?"

"Hey Mom!" Ryan calls across the bullpen, interrupting.

"Dad!" Esposito adds. "You wanna hit up Remy's?"

"What d'ya say, Detective?" he asks, not-so-casually avoiding quoting Ryan. "Up for a burger?"

"I could eat," she nods, looping her arm through his without even thinking. "Meet you there?" she calls to the guys.

"You got it!"

xxx

_What on Earth was I thinking? _Kate berates herself a few weeks later. _This is a nightmare._

Her arm is propped up on her desk, her cheek mashed into her palm as she tracks Natalie Rhodes' progress across the bullpen, an exaggerated swing in her hips that Beckett most certainly does not have.

"Ugh," she grumbles, dropping her head to her desk as Natalie stops in front of the murder board, crossing her arms, tapping her fingers, and tapping her foot as she throws her hip out to the right.

_I do not do that_, she sulks to herself, reliving the entirety of Natalie's presence. _She's not getting into my head at all._

"Chin up, Beckett!" Castle sings cheerily, placing a ToGo thermos in front of her.

"Oh, thank you," she moans when she finally looks up, snatching it up in both hands and bringing it to her lips, sinking back into her chair as she tries to relax.

"Hey, where's mine?" Natalie smirks, stepping up to the desk. _Not today, Rhodes. _

"Whoa!" Castle jumps back, knocking the stack of paperwork on the corner of Beckett's desk to the ground.

"And again; thank you," she groans this time.

"You, and she…. And you!"

"Mmmhm," she nods, watching in amusement as Castle works himself into a fluster over Natalie's Beckett persona.

"Crazy, right?" Natalie asks, thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Yeah," he agrees, jaw on the floor.

"Gonna catch a fly, Castle," Kate teases him.

"Oh, speaking of catch," Natalie turns to Kate. "Do you think we're going to catch anything new today?"

"There's really no way to know," she shrugs, clasping her hands in front of her. "We could locate our suspect in a few minutes or a few days."

"In that case, I think I'm going to head home for the day."

"It's three o'clock."

"I know, but I decided to take Castle's advice," she grins flirtatiously, meeting his eyes. "The book is so much better than my script, and I want to finish it!"

"You're reading it?" he asks, clearly shocked.

"It's so good," she nods, reaching over to grab her delivery box.

"Oh, let me!" he requests, grabbing it off of the desk before she can. "I'll walk you out."

Beckett rolls her eyes as the two make their way to the elevator, chatting as they wait for it to arrive. She kneels down to pick up the paperwork that Castle had knocked over, dropping it all over again when a thump catches her attention.

Natalie's pressed her entire body up against Castle, shoving her thigh between his, the box at their feet and his arms open at his side. She grabs his face as the doors slide shut, yanking him down to her level and pressing her lips to his.

Kate lets herself drop, feet splaying out as she lands hard on her ass. "Ow," she whimpers, leaning her head against the side of her desk as she stares mournfully at the elevator.

xxx

"Can I ask you a question?" She comes out of nowhere, causing Kate to jump. She stops herself from spilling hot coffee all over her lap just in time.

"What?" Kate asks in defeat. _What more could you possibly want from me?_

"Is Castle gay?"

"I'm sorry, what?" she chokes, wiping her face on her sleeve. "No. No."

"That's weird," Natalie muses.

"What?" she asks disinterestedly, trying to mop the coffee off her desk with a tissue.

"Last night he told me something I've never heard from a man before…" she trails off. When she doesn't continue, Beckett turns to look at her, raising an eyebrow in irritation. "He told me no," she whispers.

"What?" Her interest piques, her attention devoted entirely to Natalie.

"Yeah. I asked him back to my place, and he said, '_No_.'"

"Really?" Kate asks breathily, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I know, right? It was the weirdest thing."

"No, that's not what I…" She rolls her eyes. Natalie would never understand. _She _doesn't even understand. "Never mind."

"Wait a second… it's _you_."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're the reason he turned me down. You guys _do _have a thing, don't you?"

"No, no absolutely not," she denies, shaking her head a little too adamantly.

"Well then you need to tell him it's okay!"

"Excuse me?"

"Give him permission or something!" Natalie insists.

"Okay, I need to go. Over there." She grabs her mug and shoves away from the desk, hurrying towards the break room and far away from Natalie Rhodes, who sighs at her abandonment and moves over to peruse any additions to the murder board.

Beckett moves to refill her mug, glaring at Natalie as she paces in front of the murder board, seemingly talking to herself. "Do I really do that?" she asks, feeling Castle creep up behind her.

"Yes you do, and it's adorable."

"If it's so adorable why didn't you sleep with me?" _That's not right_, she thinks, completely missing Castle's aghast gape, eyes raking up and down her backside. "Her me," she clarifies.

"Eh, too meta," he dismisses, once he gathers his wits. _Not you_, he thinks.

xxx

"All right girl, what's your deal?" Lanie asks, handing Kate a glass of wine and sitting down on the other end of the couch.

"Castle," she says slowly, swirling the drink in her hand.

"I'm going to need a little more than that, Kate. He's your problem ninety percent of the time."

"I know," she laughs humorlessly. "But I wasn't supposed to like that."

"_Now _we're getting somewhere!" Lanie grins, her smile as big as her face. "You're finally opening up to it!"

"Opened up to it a while ago," she admits. "Right around the time my apartment blew up."

"Sweetie, that was months ago! Why haven't you said anything?"

"I don't know, Lanie…" _I'm a coward. _"At the time there was just too much going on, and he's been so awesome about everything but he hadn't really made it clear either way whether he'd be interested, and then Josh asked me out and I guess I just…"

"Are you kidding me? He couldn't be more interested!"

"He didn't sleep with Natalie Rhodes," Kate agrees softly, sipping her wine. "He told her no."

"And you didn't jump on that?!"

"I'm kind of with someone!"

"Well how serious are you?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Not as serious as he seems to think we are."

"Then why are you with him?" Lanie asks dumbly.

"I don't know! I guess…. I guess he just feels safe. Like I know he won't hurt me."

"How could you possibly know that?"

She doesn't say anything.

"Well?" Lanie prods.

"Because I don't care enough. Because I don't see us going anywhere and it won't hurt when it ends."

"That's-"

"Horrible, I know!"

"Why are you dragging it on, Kate? He obviously thinks this is going somewhere it's not! If this isn't what you want you shouldn't lead the poor guy on."

"I told him when he first asked me out that it wouldn't turn into anything serious," she defends herself weakly. "I really liked him. Under other circumstances I might've even seen us going somewhere."

"But you're not. You don't see a future with him."

She shakes her head.

"So lemme ask you this. What made you realize you could have that… that you _want _that… with Castle?"

"He makes me feel safe." She doesn't even have to think about it. "For the first time since my mother was killed, I feel safe. And important. And…" _loved_.

"He's the first person to push me when I close myself off, but he knows when to back off. He shows up right when I need him and he knows when to talk and when to just sit with me.

"He lets me vent and he spouts off his stupid theories to cheer me up and he knows when he's said something wrong and he doesn't just ignore it, he tries to fix it.

"He knew what a hard time I had with the kidnapping case a few weeks ago and he just stood there and held me for what felt like ever, talking me down…" _and when he found out why I was off my rocker about it he didn't judge me for it. He hugged me and held me and made me feel better._

"Then why aren't you with him?" Lanie shouts, trying to knock some sense into her.

But she can't afford to lose him; she's lost too many people in her life and if it doesn't work out with him, which it inevitably won't because she ruins every relationship she touches, she'll not only lose the man she's potentially falling in love with, she'll lose her best friend. Her solid ground. She'll spiral out of control and this time she won't come back from it.

"Josh can't hurt me," Kate repeats, her eyes glazing over. "But Castle can destroy me."


	11. Chapter 11

She stumbles into his side, head spinning, drunk on him. Her hand tightens around his as he squeezes her into his side, tripping across the uneven pavement. She giggles as he catches himself on the car nearest to them, eyes travelling up and down his backside before straying over towards their destination. _Shit_. "He's not buying it, Castle," she warns airily, hand creeping down her side for her gun as the guardsman spots them and starts heading their way.

"No," he whispers, halting their progress as he tugs her around to face him by the wrist. He stares at her for just a moment, both their hearts racing as he holds her gaze before his hand is in her hair and his lips are on hers. She freezes, her mind going in a thousand different directions as he forces his way into her mouth. There's a hit man less than thirty feet away and getting ever closer, but Castle's pulling her body into his and his lips are soft and warm and he tastes like peppermint and _oh my god_.

She pulls away, chest heaving as she watches his lips in a daze. There are so many reasons not to be doing this, namely the man coming to kill them less than twenty feet away, as well as the man she refuses to do anything with thousands of miles away, but who is she kidding? They're here and he smells like spice and rain and she hasn't felt anything like this in years and she doesn't deserve this but she's selfish and _oh_, she moans, diving back in.

This is where she's meant to be, fists clenching his shirt as his everything surrounds her. Safe. Loved. _Happy_. That's what he makes her feel. That's all she needs. But out of the corner of her eye she can see the hit man dismissing them as drunken fools, smirking as he turns around, and before she can think she's wrenched her face away from Castle's, used his chest to gain the momentum she needs to whirl around and bring her foot to the side of the man's head and suddenly he's flat on his back and her hands are on her knees as she struggles to catch her breath.

"That was amazing!" Castle gasps, watching her with wide eyes and mouth agape. "The way you took him out, I mean…" he clarifies halfheartedly, seeing her disbelieving stare.

"Yeah," she breathes, nodding, avoiding his gaze. _Yeah._

She wakes with a start, gasping for breath as she shoots up in bed, heart pounding, slightly sweaty. Not in fear, though. Not this time. She can still feel his heat all pressed up against her, the way his lips caress hers, how his hands go from her hair and her back to her neck and her face, a moan caught in the back of her throat. The memory wraps around her like his arms and she groans, throwing herself back against her pillows in frustration.

This is not conducive to maintaining a semi-professional friendship, this fluttery feeling that she gets _everywhere_ whenever she thinks of him. "Ugh!" she groans, pulling one of the pillows over her face and biting down to muffle her screams of frustration.

She's this close to saying screw it and calling him when the corner of her room lights up, the ringing of her phone following closely. "Beckett," she answers tiredly, already stripping off her pajama bottoms. "Got it. Be there in twenty."

"What's with the stripped cab?" she wonders, getting out of her car and eyeing up the yellow car propped up on wooden blocks in the middle of the lot.

"Security guard wondered the same thing, until he came across the body."

"Who's our victim?"

"Amir Alhabi," Esposito announces. "Taxi driver."

"Alright, contact auto theft – have them on the lookout for these stolen car parts."

"Already done."

"Was there money on the body?" she asks, entering the warehouse next to the lot.

"Not on the body, not in the cab. Everything points to him being popped for cash and car parts."

"Not everything baby," Lanie corrects, eyeing her clipboard.

"Did you just call him baby?" Kate whispers, catching her eye.

"Oh, did I?"

"You did," Castle confirms.

"Anyway, you found something unusual?" Kate prods, trying to get them back on track.

"Not at first. Time of death fits a robbery; he was killed at 11:15."

"So specific, I'm impressed," Castle nods.

"His watch broke when he fell."

"Ah, you shouldn't have told me; less impressed."

"Cause of death fits, too; looks like a 9mm to the noggin. But there's something that doesn't fit. His fingers were broken one at a time."

"Cabbies sometimes hide their money… maybe they tortured him to tell them where it was?"

"All right, let's find out where he was driving and who he picked up before he wound up here," Kate orders, wrapping up.

And that's how they'd ended up here, backs glued to the walls of a frozen storage unit. "I always thought, being a cop, I'd take a bullet... I never thought I'd freeze to death," Kate coughs, burrowing further into his side.

"Hey," he murmurs, tightening his grip around her. "We're not… we're not dead yet."

She rolls her eyes, trying to smile at his optimism. "I almost wish this was one of your books, and that you could rewrite our ending," she sighs wistfully, and as she continues he thinks that maybe he's not meant to hear the rest. "It's okay, though," she sighs, having made peace with it. "We'll be together again soon, Baby."

"I'm s-sorry," Castle whispers, pulling Beckett as close to him as he can get her. "F-for being me. Going rogue. Getting you in... into this. If we hadn't gone rogue..."

"Oh, shh. Castle, no. Okay? Shhh. You were right; we found the bomb. We were just too late, okay?" she assures him, taking a deep breath. "Castle? Thank you… for… being there."

"Always."

"I just want you to know," she says, feeling her consciousness slipping but needing to say _something _before she lost the chance to ever say _anything_, "how much I l-" but her hand falls from his face and she becomes dead weight against his side before she can get it out.

"Hey, Kate, stay with me," Castle panics, trying to shake her away. "Kate? Stay with me!"

_At first I loved that he was so busy. It just gave me an opportunity to keep one foot out the door…just in case… But he's out there, saving people, and how do you even compete with that? But that's one of the things that attracted me to him… the passion and the drive. Why is it that the thing that attracts you to a person always ends up being the thing that drives you crazy? Now I just wish that I had someone who would be there for me… and I could be there for him… and we could just dive in to it together._

"Beckett!" he calls, sitting up roughly, blinking in the unexpected light.

"Whoa, easy there pal," a paramedic sooths, trying to push him back down onto the gurney.

"No, Beckett! Where is she?"

"She's gonna be fine. You both are; we got to you just in time."

"Josh," Castle groans. "I thought you were in Haiti?"

"Didn't go. This is gonna hurt," he says, reaching for the IV in Castle's arm. "So you're recovering from a moderate case of hypothermia and you're going to be a little bit sluggish for a while. But, with some warmth and some fluids, you should be all right. Now let's see if we can get you up."

"How long was I out?" he thinks suddenly, reluctantly letting Josh help him stand.

"About an hour."

"The bomb?"

"Searched the entire warehouse. It's gone."

"How'd you guys find us?" he asks, turning to Esposito.

"Alexis called, said you didn't come home."

"Alexis? She's supposed to be out of town!" Castle panics, his heart racing as he imagines the city being leveled, his daughter helpless at home.

"I guess she came back. We figured you were with Beckett, until Josh called."

"We thought you must be out there doing something incredibly stupid against orders. So, we sent patrol units everywhere we figured you'd be moronic enough to go. Found Beckett's car, searched the area till we found the light from the storage container," Ryan pipes up, feeding the birds with Esposito.

"Well, I'm glad my stupidity is predictable. You pulled us out of there?"

Ryan nods.

"Thanks." He spots Beckett leaning against a car some twenty feet away and heads over to her. "So your boy's back in town."

"Mm-hmm," she replies absentmindedly, watching Josh shake hands with one of the medics. "He came back."

"So, what does that mean to you?" Castle asks, unsure he wants to hear the answer.

"I don't know," she shrugs, turning to look at him. "C'mon. Fallon wants to debrief us."

"Oh, is he ready to believe us now?"

xxx

"How did a normal pop and drop get us to this point?" Castle asks in distress, looking on helplessly as Kate tries to text pictures of the bomb to Fallon. "How did we get to this point?"

"Fallon, you got anything?" Kate asks desperately, watching as the timer ticks closer and closer to zero. "Fallon?!"

"Forty-five seconds…" Castle counts down.

"Hang on…"

"Thirty seconds…"

"Fallon!"

"I can't see anything, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry."

"Castle," Beckett whispers, letting the phone drop. He grabs her hand, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. He holds her gaze with his own, his lips twisting up in response to her own little smile, rubbing his thumb over her back, and leans forward to press his lips against her forehead.

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispers into her hair, just before he lurches forward and tears as many wires as he can get his hands on from the bomb. He closes his eyes and stumbles back as it sparks, blinking them open when nothing more seems to happen.

"Oh," he hears Beckett laugh, her eyes focused on the 00:00:00 of the timer. "Oh, Castle! Ah!" She throws herself into his arms, barely hesitating before pressing her lips to his. He drops the wires still in his hands to the ground, arms flopping uselessly at his side before he can gather his wits and lift them to her waist and chin.

He lifts her head, pressing ever closer but, as usual, reality sets in. He allows her to pull away, watching in awe as she gasps out his name, looks back at the bomb and clutches her heart and her hair. He looks back at the abandoned wires spread across the pavement, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face as he points to them, then the van, doing a double fist-pump in between.

xxx

"You know what I thought when I first met you?" he asks, leaning back into the couch, smirking as he crosses his legs.

"Mm?" she mumbles absentmindedly, resting her cheek in her hand as she leans against the back of the couch and watches him.

"That you were a mystery I was never gonna solve," he answers seriously. "Even now, after spending all this time with you? I'm _still_ amazed at the depths of your strength, your heart," he pauses, taking a moment to sweep his gaze up and down her body. "And your hotness."

"You're not so bad yourself, Castle," she laughs, sitting up a little straighter. Neither says anything more, their flirtatious grins falling to something far more serious as electricity crackles through the air.

It would be so easy; _so _easy to just give in, to let go of everything weighing her down. He's been so good to her, much better than she ever would have expected of anyone and certainly much better than she thought she deserved and most of her excuses have already been deconstructed anyway so, really, what's stopping her? Why isn't she standing up slowly, seductively, slinking her way over to him? Straddling him on the couch, leaning down to bite a path down his neck? Why isn't his hair clenched in her hands, his palms clutching her waist, their bodies pressed together? It would be _so _easy. Instead, "I should go; it's late." She stands up, wrenching her gaze from his, blinking furiously to clear her mind as she heads for her door.

"Kate…"

"Goodnight, Castle." She slips inside and rakes her hands down her face, huffing out an exasperated breath. _Risking our hearts is why we're alive. The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder if only. _If only… if only she hadn't left Rory alone. If only she'd had a level head. If only she'd been able to spot what everyone had obviously missed.

If only she hadn't brushed Castle off in the beginning. If only she hadn't hidden everything away. If only she hadn't been too uptight, too nervous, too stubborn, too… _cowardly_. She grasps the handle and shoves, the door swinging open before her but, once again, she's too late. She's always too late, and Castle's gone and the living room is spinning and hurling and breaking and suddenly Castle's body is pinning hers to a car, but no, this isn't right.

His hands are stroking her cheeks, wiping away the tears, brushing the hair out of her eyes. His breath washes across her ear as he whispers, "Shhhhh," over and over. "Shhh, Kate, it's going to be okay. You're okay, shhh." His heat wraps around her like a blanket, but this isn't right.

"No, Castle, let me go! Let me go," she begs, shaking her head uselessly, banging her fists against his chest weakly. "Lemme go, Castle."

"I can't do that, Kate," he whispers, pressing his forehead to hers, running his hands up and down her arms, but another shot goes off and somehow she just _knows_ that there won't be anymore and suddenly she's out of his arms and through the back door of the hangar and kneeling on the cold hard concrete over Roy Montgomery and-

"Ah!" she gasps, jumping a little as she wakes unexpectedly. Again. Her head is pounding, her heart is racing and her hands are shaking as she throws the comforter over the edge and sits up. The clock glares up at her, _8:18_, the sun breaks through the gaps in the curtains, and her dress blues hang forlornly on the back of her bedroom door. Time somehow speeds past as she drags through the morning, chugging a bottle of water, choking down a couple of Advil, practicing her eulogy and before she knows it it's time to put on her uniform and meet the boys at the cemetery.

She stands stoically through the ceremony, refusing to crack until she's all alone in her apartment, reunited with her bottle of jack, until it's her turn to speak. She's proud of herself for making it this far, not one tear managing to escape as she begins, "Roy Montgomery taught me what it meant to be a cop. He taught me that we are bound by our choices, but we are _more_ than our mistakes." She was even starting to believe that.

"Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us there is no victory; there are only battles. And in the end, the best you could hope for is to find a place to make your stand. And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you," she pauses, eyes straying back to look at Castle, before powering on. "Our captain would want us to carry on the fight. And even if-"

"Kate!" Castle yells, and before she can ask him what the Hell he thinks he's doing interrupting something like this her chest is erupting and she's on the ground. Her ears are buzzing and she's gasping for breath before Castle realizes she's been hit.

"Oh, Kate. Shh. Kate, please. Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay?" he begs and pleads as her eyelids flutter, her breathing growing shallow. "No no no," he moans, trying to rouse her. "Stay with me, Kate, stay with me!" Her eyes roll back and just before she loses consciousness, "Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate."


	12. Chapter 12

_"Hey, are you busy later? There's something I need to talk to you about." One arm wraps around her waist, clutching at her sweater as she chews on her other thumbnail, the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder._

_"No, and I was hoping you'd be free. I need to talk to you, too… Dinner at my place? Sixish?"_

_"Yeah, that sounds good," she agrees, moving on to the next nail. "I'll see you then."_

_By the time six o'clock rolls around all of her nail have been bitten down to nubs. "Wine?" he offers, barely even giving her a chance to get through the front door. _

_"No, thank you," she declines, shrugging out of her coat and turning to hang it in the closet. She turns back to find Will staring at her disappointedly. "What?" She goes back to that first thumb, biting at the skin when she can't get her teeth under the edge of the nail._

_"Nothing," he shrugs quickly, letting the hand holding the bottle fall to his side. "Are you hungry? I made spaghetti."_

_"Sure," she shrugs, without much of an appetite, and follows him into the kitchen._

_"Should we talk now, or after we eat?" he asks._

_"Might as well get it over with," she mutters. "Why don't you go first?"_

_He blows out, cheeks puffing and lips pursed as he nods his head. "Now or never. I'm moving to Boston."_

_She freezes. "I'm sorry?"_

_"I've been offered a position that I just can't refuse, Kate. It's in Boston."_

_"Yeah, I heard that the first time..." she snarks, unable to comprehend how everything could have turned to shit so completely. "Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose."_

_"I want you to come with me."_

_"I'm sorry?" she repeats with the ghost of a laugh._

_"Yeah, it'll be great! You can start with the Boston PD, we can get a place together… we can start our lives."_

_"No!" She shakes her head adamantly. "No. You don't get to do that, Will. You can't just expect me to upend my entire life for you. I already have a job here, with good people and good connections. I don't want to start over somewhere else."_

_"But Kate, I already accepted."_

_"Well I guess you should have thought about that beforehand. If you had really been thinking of me, you never would have accepted without asking my opinion. I would have supported you, Will, but to just assume that I would drop everything here for you? That's awfully presumptuous and completely uncalled for." She turns on her heel and heads back to the entry, yanking her coat from the closet and sending its hanger flying._

_"Kate, c'mon."_

_"There's nothing left to say."_

_"What about what you wanted to talk about?"_

_She pauses, conflicted, but in the end she goes with the truth. "It doesn't matter anymore." Not where he's concerned._

xxx

_"Oh, she is beautiful, Katie."_

_"Yeah she is," she whispers, stroking the newborn's cheek softly. "Beauty and light in a world full of darkness," she muses, lifting the baby and leaning forward to kiss her forehead._

_"Now that you've finally seen her, have you chosen a name?"_

_"Aurora," she says confidently. "Aurora Lynne Beckett."_

_"A beautiful name for a beautiful baby," the nurse, hiding in the corner, inputs as she fills in the final slot on the birth certificate._

_"Thank you," Kate smiles tiredly._

_"Do you want me to bring her to the nursery?" she offers, noting Kate's exhaustion._

_"No, thank you. I'm never letting her go."_

xxx

_"Jesus, Rory, don't you ever do that again, you hear me? You scared Mommy half to death!"_

_"I sorry, Mommy, I sorry!" Rory cries, throwing herself from the security guard's arms and into Kate's._

_"Oh, Baby Girl," Kate coos, rubbing Rory's back, "I'm so glad that you're safe. Don't you ever run off, Rory, do you understand?"_

_"Yes Mommy," she whimpers, burying her face in Kate's shoulder. "I sorry."_

xxx

_She lets go of her hand, just for a minute. Just long enough to sign her out, but by then she's gone. She lost her hope, she let go, and her baby is gone. _

xxx_  
_

xxx

_"Mom, look at this!" a seven year old Rory begs, stretching on her tiptoes before throwing her body into a spin, twist after twist after twist as she dances across the living room, a sheer fairy skirt billowing around her. _

_She flicks a wand, the very same from her toddler years, as she goes, bringing about a certain magic that only she could._

xxx

_"Ma, see what I learned today?" she asks, nine years old, warping her body backwards and lifting into a handstand, trekking around the foyer unsteadily until she knocks into the table, causing the vase to tumble to the ground. "Oops…"_

_"You're gonna get it now," Kate sings from the kitchen, looking up from her stir-fry just long enough to see that her daughter is unharmed. _

_"Yeah, right!" she flips back onto her feet, tiptoeing out of the shards. "Rick likes me way more than that ugly vase."_

xxx

_"I did it, I did it, I did it!" she comes flying into the loft, seventeen. _

_"Won the lottery?" Castle asks excitedly._

_"Passed calculus!" she shrieks, too excited to roll her eyes. "You know what that means?"_

_"We're going out for dinner?" Castle asks hopefully._

_"No summer classes!" she screeches. "But can we? The Hard Rock?"_

_"Really? Of all the places you could choose you go with the Hard Rock?"_

_She nods excitedly. _

xxx _  
_

Her heart starts racing with the forged memories, a future that will never be, and as she rockets towards consciousness, dreams still playing on her eyelids, she breaks, unable to understand how God could possibly be so cruel as to let her survive yet another fatal disaster while her baby is gone…

But then she remembers the images of Rory in the loft, standing on Castle's toes as they danced around the living room, sprawled across the piano, crooning along to Martha's dramatic chords, consoled by Castle after a tussle with a suspect landed Kate unconscious, and suddenly none of it matters anymore because she knows when she opens her eyes he'll be there and somehow that makes everything okay again; Castle can make her world go round like nothing else.

Only when she finally cracks an eyelid and squints against the harsh fluorescents its not Castle hovering over her worriedly, it's Josh. "Oh," she groans. She had not foreseen this little obstacle. "Josh…"

"Oh, Kate, thank God. Your fever spiked overnight and for a while there, I thought I might lose you. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been shot," she snaps weakly, irrationally irritated. Josh has, technically, done nothing wrong, but she's dying to get out of his presence. Her eyes trail over to the bedside table, already covered in flower vases. "Is that water just there to taunt me or can I have some?" she rasps.

"It's a cup of ice chips, actually, which you can have. No water just yet."

"Great." She reaches over, gasping when she feels the tug of her stitches. It's not painful, per se, the morphine makes sure of that, but it's still unexpected. When she realizes the scratchiness of her throat is not to be relieved any time soon she sets the cup on her bed top table. "What are you doing here, Josh?"

"I just thought-" he trails off, looking crestfallen.

Now she's angry. "What? That you'd save my life and I'd just fall back into your arms? I meant what I said, Josh." The heart monitor starts screeching as her heart rate skyrockets, the energy exertion far too much for her body to handle. She powers through, anyway, pretending that her head doesn't suddenly feel like its where the bullet made its home. "Just because I'm suddenly helpless doesn't mean-," she cuts herself off, gasping for breath. "I liked you Josh, and I still do, but I can't keep fooling myself and if I could it wouldn't be fair to you. You should go."

He stands frozen at her bedside, a dark, shadowy figure against the hospital grey as the nurse pumps her full of sedatives, fighting to calm her heart before it runs itself dry.

She's blessedly alone when she wakes the second time, somehow feeling even more exhausted then the first. Now that she has space to sit back and just be she can just feel the crushing pressure on her chest, the dull sting on her side, and the fiery spot just shy of the middle of her breasts. Add all that to the emotional turmoil and she feels like the grim reaper's most recent failed target.

Despite everything, she's thankful for the discomfort. Despite everything, she's alive and – a knock on the door interrupts her musing and Castle steps in, gloriously unmarred with his devilish grin, a vase of wildflowers cradled in one arm - and it's time to start living.

"Hey, Castle," she grins tiredly, tracking his progress across the room. His eyes sweep up and down, the hospital bed seemingly swallowing her whole and his heart clenches. "You're staring at me. I must look really bad," she jokes, slightly self conscious about her less than stellar appearance.

"No. I just… I never thought I'd see you again," he breathes. She's sure she'd be red if she didn't look like such a corpse. "I heard you were opening up a flower shop, so I thought I'd pitch in."

"Thanks," she chuckles, wincing immediately after; every shift in position makes her entire body ache. "They were all here when I woke up. I think they're mostly from the precinct… I don't think I'm going to live this one down, Castle."

"No," he muses. "Probably not."

She scoffs, mustering the energy to roll her eyes. They sit in silence for a few moments, and she can tell that he's dying to speak, to bring up the day before, and she _so _wants to let him and yet, after all that she's been through, all she's just decided, when it comes down to looking him in the eye she still can't say it and so, she lies. "I hear that you tried to save me," she mumbles, playing with a thread on her blanket.

"Yeah, I uh...You _heard_? You don't… you don't remember me tackling you?"

She has to be careful, here. She can't crush him like she knows she will. He loves her and she loves him but she's not in that place yet, as much as she wants to be, but she can't destroy him while she buys herself the time to get there. "I don't think so," she says carefully. "It's all such a blur… I'm not really sure what's real and what's not. I remember that I was on the podium, and then I just remember everything fading out."

'You don't remember m-" he catches himself just in time, "the gunshot?"

"I don't think so. They say that there're some things that are better not being remembered. I think the tugging I feel now, and the burning I'll feel when they take away my morphine, will be enough without the memory of a bullet tearing through my flesh."

"I suppose you're right," he says sadly, refusing to meet her eye.

"Hey… what happened?" she asks worriedly, noticing the dark bruising around his temple for the first time.

"Oh, this? It's nothing," he tries to brush it off.

"_Castle_."

"I got into a little… _tussle_."

"I can see that. _What_. _Happened_?" she grits out as threateningly as she can manage.

"Look, it's really not that big of a deal. I got punched," he shrugs it off. "_You were shot_. This definitely isn't about me."

"Castle." _Infuriating woman. Even when she's practically dead she can still scare the shit out of him._

"JoshandIgotintoafightoveryouandhewonkindof," he rushes out, hoping she'll drop it.

"What?!" she sputters.

"Josh came and found me in the hallway shortly after you came in," he gives in. "He… he blamed me, and that's why I didn't really fight back; he was right."

"Oh, my God! Castle, this is not your fault, do you hear me? You tried to warn me – Hell, you tried to take a _bullet_ for me. And honestly? I'm glad it's me in this bed; I don't know what I would do if you were the one stuck in here. I can't even imagine it; just the thought of it makes me sick."

"That's probably the drugs," he tries to play it off. "Where is Josh, anyway? As much as I agree with him, I'm not really up for another round today."

"You really think he'd go after you again?"

"If he saw me here with you." He knew that Josh would have a fit if he saw Castle anywhere near his girl again, especially while her wounds were still so raw.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. He won't be back. And if he is, I'll take care of it myself."

"I'm not sure I understand." He thinks he knows where she's going with this, but he won't hold his breath.

"Josh is gone, Castle."

"What happened? Are you… are you all right?"

"He was a good guy, or so I thought," she corrects, eyeing the steadily darkening circle on Castle's face. "It wasn't enough."

He allows the joy to shine through, just for a minute, before masking it back behind concern.

"Look, Castle, I don't want to be rude but I'm really tired."

"Oh, no, yeah! Of course! I'll just… go." He fumbles around for items he never set down, grinning like a fool when he realizes his keys are still in his pocket. "Take it easy, Beckett," he whispers, leaning down and pressing his lips against her forehead, stroking her hair back once before hurrying to get out of her hair.

"Hey Castle," she calls out, just as he opens the door.

"Yeah?" He turns back, trying not to appear too eager.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't catch me anywhere else. Until tomorrow, Detective."

"Until tomorrow, Writer," she smirks, eyes already closed as she pushes her pump, letting the morphine take control.


	13. Chapter 13

As promised, he returns in the morning. And the next day, and the day after that. He's glued to her side for the next week or so that she's stuck there, sneaking in real coffee every morning (decaf, of course), playing cards in her boredom and sitting quietly at her side in her exhaustion.

In spite of everything, he can't help but love the hospital environment; when else would he be able to spend so much time with her, completely (okay, mostly) uninhibited? When else would she _ever_ play Go Fish with him? And in her drug-induced haze she's even letting him get away with most of his innuendos.

He cherishes every indignant gasp as he tries to cheat, every smirk as he admits defeat. The giggles she lets escape at his dumb jokes make his heart race and he can't remember the last time he's smiled so much.

But as they wean her off of the heavy meds the bubble starts to deflate; the pain of the slit in her side sharpens, the dull burn of the bullet wound flares, and she's back to wishing that the bullet had taken that path one more inch to the right. Her existence is once again miserable, the need for the shadow of death to overcome her strong.

The rest of the summer flashes through her mind, the horrible, awful, painful months ahead making her flinch, and she dreads her impending discharge. She's not looking forward to being cooped up alone, nothing but her bare apartment walls to keep her mind off of her misery. _Maybe I'll take a sabbatical to my dad's cabin on the lake_, she muses.

"Hey, you ready?" Castle's voice interrupts her hasty escape planning.

_Never_. "Yeah," she sighs instead, forcing a smile as she sits up and throws her legs over the edge of the hospital bed. He steps forward, hand barely skimming her back as he guides her to the wheelchair. "You know you don't have to do this," she says.

"Course I do," he shrugs, grabbing her bag before pushing her out of the room. "I'm your partner."

He gets her settled into the car, returning the wheelchair inside before sliding in next to her. "So, as you know, your doctor said you shouldn't be by yourself for a while yet…"

"Castle," she starts, already against the idea.

"Hear me out," he rushes on. "I know you're independent and want to hide in the corner to lick your wounds in private but Kate, what if something happens? What if you reach for something and tear a stitch? What if you can't make it from the couch to the bedroom? What if you slip in the shower?"

"What about this situation makes you think I'm suddenly a klutz?" she rolls her eyes. "I've never slipped in the shower and I'm not about to start now."

"You've never been shot in the chest before," he counters. "All I'm saying is something could happen, and what if you're alone when it does? You don't have to be social. You don't have to hang out in the living room; you can hide in your bedroom all day long. I just don't want you to be by yourself. I don't want anything more to happen to you, Kate."

She shoves herself into the seat, trying to sink into the leather. This was supposed to be easy; she should've known.

"Look, Castle. I see what you're saying. I do, and I appreciate the concern, ill-placed though it may be. But you're right; I need some time to lick my wounds in private. I'm going to spend some time at my dad's cabin. He's going to take me up in the morning," she lies, knowing damn well that she hadn't asked if he was available. "I'll survive the night alone," she assures him."

"But-"

"Really, Castle. I'll be okay, and so will you. We could both use some time to get over this."

xxx

It's been two weeks since he's seen Kate. Two weeks since he held her hand, knew without a doubt that she was still alive. Two weeks since the ache in his heart had returned in full force.

She'd told him he could call, said she wasn't going to disappear. He's reluctant to believe her, but he knows she needs time. She'll heal herself as best she can while they're apart, and as much as he needs to hear her voice, assure himself that she's still there, he respects her too much to hound her. Loves her too much to become a nuisance. If he calls her once, he'll call her a thousand times.

He knows damn well she's still there, knows he'd have heard if the case was anything but. He knows that he's allowed to call, and eventually he will. After everything that's happened, though... She's right. They could both use a little time.

So he forces himself to write, coming up with eighty pages of complete shit over those first two weeks that he takes great pleasure in deleting at the beginning of the third. He goes to his fancy touch screen, deleting anything from those eighty pages from the timeline and copying them to a list of possible ideas before moving to power down the screen, but the icon next to the button catches his attention.

Rory's file.

It's been a while since he's looked at it, so he pours himself a glass of scotch and with a deep breath touches the icon. Of course nothing has changed since he last had it up, but he still half expects this to be a horrible nightmare, for the case to be solved each time he reviews it.

It never is.

_Who took Rory?_

_How did they get her out?_

_Where is she?_

The list of questions unanswered is endless, but as he leans against his desk, scrutinizing the list, he thinks of yet another.

_What's up with Sorensen?_

With him being in the FBI, Castle finds it hard to believe that he'd never heard of the case, let alone never been involved. And if he'd heard of the case, he'd have to have known that it was Kate's daughter. And if he knew it was Kate's daughter, if he was as smart as he ought to be, he'd have to have known that Rory was his, too.

So where was he?

_How had he never become involved?_

Castle pushes off the desk and spins around it, plopping into his chair to dig deeper. He's so desperate for information that he's on the eleventh Google search page when Alexis comes in, shutting his screen and leaning forward to get his attention.

"Dad!"

"Hey, Pumpkin!" He jumps, so engrossed in the clipping of an article about an international corporate takedown that he hadn't heard her arrive. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" she smirks, pushing herself back up.

"How could I forget? You eat my food and drain my bank account."

"As if," she rolls her eyes, staring pointedly at his display of light sabers.

"Moving right along," he coughs, rolling to block them from her view. "What can I do for you, daughter?"

"Well, father, you've been holed up in here for the past couple of weeks so, with the lack of the clacking of keys, I came in to see how it was going."

"Oh," he groaned. "It's not."

She crosses her arms, quirking an eyebrow at him. "It was garbage!" he defends himself hastily. "I took great pleasure in destroying it."

"Well what was the problem?" she asks, her thinking cap clearly in place as she turns to look at his outline.

"Oh, Alexis, that's not-" She waves him off, stepping closer. He's sees the exact moment she realizes that this is not for Nikki Heat, the moment it clicks that what she's looking at is so much more serious than that.

"What is this, Daddy?" she whispers, reaching up to run her fingers over Rory's face, then her name.

He sighs heavily, hoisting himself up and stepping to her side, wrapping his arm around her as they stare at the screen. "This is Kate's daughter. She was kidnapped from the hospital a few years ago."

"Oh my God," she breathes, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. "All this time, I never-"

"She doesn't like to talk about it," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "It was an accident that I found out."

"What happened?" she whispers, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"She had cancer, and she wasn't doing very well. Somebody disappeared with her while Kate was signing the papers to take her home for Christmas… maybe for good. She came back to get her and the room was empty. Nothing on cameras, no witnesses…. Nothing. She just vanished."

"How does a little girl just... _vanish_?"

"Unfortunately, Sweetie, it happens all the time."

xxx

He takes a long, excruciatingly hot shower that evening. The water beats against his stiff, knotted muscles, offering a small respite from the tension caused by the whole ordeal that his life has become.

When he can take it no longer he slams his hand on the tap, the water cutting of immediately as he slings a towel around his waist and steps into his bedroom, emitting a scream fit for an eight year old as he slips on the hardwood and falls to his ass at the sight of a short man in a dark suit perched at the foot of his bed.

"You called?"

"Four hours ago," Castle gasps, trying to regain his breath. "I didn't mean for you to show up here!"

"Well that's what you've got, so start talking. Your time is limited."

His eyes widen, hand going to his throat. "I'm leaving the premises in no more than five minutes. Talk," the agent demands, rolling his eyes.

"Er, right. Of course," Castle plays it off, getting back to his feet. "William Sorensen," he hedges, reminding him of their earlier interaction.

"He's dead, Mr. Castle. He died in Europe at the end of 2009, after a four-month stint there."

"And before that?"

"What kind of time period are we looking at here?"

"2007 to his death."

"He was stationed in Boston until July, when he was transferred to California. He was located there until mid-2008, except for a brief disappearance during a mission in the middle east, when he was transferred to DC. Mid 2009 he was moved to Europe, where he died."

"That doesn't solve anything," he mutters.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head, brushing it off. "Thank you for your insight." But the agent is already gone.


End file.
